Invisible Chains – Sequel to Siege of Assassins
by Eideann
Summary: After his attempt to assassinate Prince Adam, Skeletor has been soundly defeated and isn't making much of a fuss right now. So what has happened to Prince Adam? Why is he acting so oddly? 2002 Motu Sequel to A Siege of Assassins
1. And Life Goes On

Invisible Chains (This is the sequel to A Siege of Assassins - note: it is second in a trilogy.)  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Mekanek sat on the edge of the fountain, enjoying the cool air. Summer was winding down into fall, and there would be only a few more sunny days before the rains began. He glanced up and saw that Prince Adam had just emerged from the great hall and was starting down the stair very slowly. Mekanek was glad to see that the boy's balance was better. He no longer required a death grip on the banister to make it down the flight. His physical therapy was going well, it appeared. Mekanek knew all about physical therapy, he reflected wryly, twisting his neck a little.  
  
"He's looking better, isn't he?" Teela said, coming up next to him suddenly. Mekanek threw a glance up at her. The tone she used might sound casual to an inexperienced observer, but he'd practically helped raise both those kids. She was worried.  
  
"Yeah," he said, matching her tone. "He'll be back like new in no time."  
  
"I hope so," Teela said doubtfully. "He seems a little depressed."  
  
Mekanek shrugged. "It's only natural, Teela. He's been through a lot, and it's no fun being stuck in bed for that long."  
  
"You're telling me!" Teela said ironically, and Mekanek knew she was thinking of her sprained ankle.  
  
"Come on, Teela," he said reasonably. "There's no comparison. You were stuck in bed, what? Two days?"  
  
"It was longer than that," Teela exclaimed, raising an eyebrow disdainfully. Lord, can teenagers pour on the scorn.  
  
"I mean all the time." Mekanek shook his head at her disbelieving expression. "Not up for physical therapy, not hobbling to the bathroom, not vertical at all. That couldn't have been more than two days, or I'd have heard about it."  
  
As he'd spoken her expression had grown more thoughtful. "If you count getting to the bathroom," she said slowly, sitting down next to him, "it wasn't even two days." She grimaced. "It wasn't even one."  
  
"You were in the room with him a lot of the time. You know how he -" She waved a hand, interrupting him, as he thought she might. "My point is, he wasn't out of that room without somebody carrying him for more than six weeks. That takes a toll on a guy." She nodded reluctantly, looking over at Adam who had stopped to talk to Man-E-Faces. Mekanek followed her glance, and saw that Adam was looking tired. Not surprising. If Mekanek remembered his schedule right, he'd had a lot on his plate today.  
  
"I guess," Teela said.  
  
"And pain like he's had can wear you out. Trust me, I know." Teela's brow wrinkled. Mekanek got the impression that she preferred not to think about that. He sighed. "Just don't be surprised if he's a little out of sorts for awhile." Teela sighed deeply. Mekanek put a hand on her knee. "It'll pass, Teela, it'll pass."  
  
***  
  
Adam was walking across the courtyard. Randor watched him covertly from the window of his office. Over the past weeks, especially since Adam had been allowed out of bed more, he'd found himself going frequently in search of him, to check if he was okay.  
  
From the way Adam was starting to look at him every time he showed up, he suspected that his son was getting irritated by his watchfulness. And no wonder. What sixteen-year-old boy wanted his father around all the time? But Randor couldn't seem to stop himself. He just kept looking for the boy. And wondering what had gone wrong.  
  
The door opened behind him. Randor didn't move. After a moment, Duncan cleared his throat. Randor turned around, aware of a faint flush coloring his skin. "Yes, Man-at-Arms?"  
  
Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Adam again?" Randor nodded. Of all the people in this castle, Marlena included, he could never hide anything from Duncan. "He's doing much better, sire. You don't need to worry so much."  
  
"It's just - he seems so unhappy all the time these days. I know depression is normal under the circumstances, but I'm worried, Duncan. He's even stopped his research, and you know deeply he got involved in that."  
  
"I know. But you've got to remember, Randor, Adam is only sixteen. Teenagers are notoriously moody. And he's had a rough couple of months."  
  
Randor shook his head. He knew this. He didn't need Duncan to tell him. His lips twisted wryly. Or perhaps he did. Adam spent a lot more time with Duncan these days, and Randor knew that he confided more in his best friend's father than in his own. He sighed. "Perhaps if we could spend more time together, like we did when he was first injured, things would be better again."  
  
"Perhaps," Duncan said neutrally.  
  
Randor slammed a fist down on the desk. "By the Elders, Duncan, I've had it up to my chin with your inability to commit firmly to any statement whatsoever regarding Adam!" Randor leaned on balled fists over his desk, bringing his face close to his oldest friend's. "What do you think?" he demanded. "Does he hate me? What's going on with him?"  
  
Duncan blinked. "Hate you?" he said incredulously. "No, he doesn't hate you! Where is that coming from?"  
  
Randor stood up straight again, taken somewhat aback by his own outburst. "I don't know. I just feel like I'm doing something dreadfully wrong, and I don't know where to look to fix it." He sank into his chair. "I'm sorry to sound off at you like that, Duncan. I'm just so frustrated - and so worried about Adam."  
  
Duncan nodded, tacitly accepting the apology and sat down himself, legs spread slightly, one elbow resting on his knee. "Talk to me, Duncan. I'm concerned about Adam, and all you offer me these days is platitudes and vague answers. After recent events I want - I need more. Surely you can see that."  
  
As Randor spoke, Duncan sat up straighter and crossed his arms. Randor pursed his lips in irritation. He'd always been able to read Duncan by watching his body posture. Observing as his oldest friend closed him off in response to a question regarding his own son. . . . Randor took a firm grip on his temper.  
  
"It's awkward, Randor," Duncan said finally. "You see, Adam has told me things in confidence, and I'm loath to break his trust."  
  
Randor stared at Duncan, who, for once, was meeting his eyes frankly as he spoke of Adam. "Oh," he said, feeling somewhat lost. "I see. No, of course not." Randor got to his feet and turned back toward the window. What had Adam needed to say that he felt he couldn't speak with his own father about? There he was, conversing with Mekanek and Teela. The king was aware of Duncan sitting silently behind him.  
  
Adam, far below, turned away from his friends and started to limp slowly off. Randor was going to have to talk to Dorgan about the boy's schedule. Perhaps it was too heavy. . . . His thoughts trailed off as Adam stumbled on an uneven paving stone. Mekanek stood up and reached forward, but the held himself back. Teela was not so wise. She caught Adam's arm to try and steady him. He shook her off, uttering some kind of bitter retort, and she stepped back, frustrated concern in every line of her body. Randor knew how she felt as she watched him hobble off, back straight, going too quickly for his still recuperating legs.  
  
"It's as if he's trying to go it alone, without any support." The king shook his head. "What tools can I give him, Duncan?" he asked, turning back to his friend. "What can I give him that he will take?"  
  
Duncan pursed his lips, clearly considering both the question and how much he could say. Randor resisted the urge to pick him up and shake him. Finally, he said, "Respect, Randor. That's what you could give him."  
  
Faced with the awful simplicity of that request, as well as the terrible enormity, Randor sat again slowly. "Duncan, you of all people know that respect cannot be given, it must be earned."  
  
Duncan's breath chuffed out, almost like he'd been punched in the gut. He put a hand to his forehead, looking pained. "And Adam hasn't done that," he said, his tone somehow contriving to make it both a statement and a question.  
  
"Well, his reaction to this latest crisis with all the assassination attempts has been exemplary. But up to that point, he's been, well, unreliable. One battle, he disappears just as the fighting starts; the next, he launches himself recklessly at the strongest opponent. I don't know how he's going to react now. Will this experience make him more rash? More likely to run? Or will it finally steady him down a little - get him to find a middle ground?"  
  
Duncan's expression suggested that he didn't like the question much. Randor didn't like it much. He hated the thought of Adam throwing his life away in some futile battle with someone he couldn't defeat, but a future king couldn't continue to avoid three fights out of four. "And nothing I say seems to make much of an impact."  
  
There was a knock at the door. He nodded, and Man-at-Arms went to open it. They both got a little stiff when they saw who it was. Adam walked in, giving both of them suspicious looks.  
  
"Father," he said, his tone somewhat gruff. "Is there any way I could move back into my old room? I'd really like to get out of the infirmary. It's too public." He shifted uncomfortably. "I feel like people are staring at me all the time."  
  
Randor's eyes widened. He hadn't even considered that. "Of course, son, if you would prefer. I'll have somebody move your things."  
  
Adam opened his mouth as if he'd like to object, but closed again, looking annoyed. "Thanks." He turned to go, and Randor stood up. He wanted to say something, to ask something, but nothing came to mind. And Duncan shook his head silently, gesturing for him to sit down again. "See you at dinner," Adam said as he left, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Randor summoned a servant and gave the order to move Adam's belongings back to his own room. Then he turned back to Man-at-Arms. "I just can't get it right."  
  
"All parents go through this with their children, Randor. Adam just has unusual pressures on him."  
  
"Oh yes? And do you have troubles like this with Teela?" Randor demanded irritably.  
  
"Believe me, she has her moments."  
  
"Few and far between, I'll wager." Randor knew he was in a funk and taking it out on Duncan, but it was better than taking it out on Adam or some hapless courtier. He'd done a bit of both over the last couple of days, and he was irritated with himself for it.  
  
Duncan leaned forward. "And there are areas in which I know you are proud of him."  
  
"I never said I wasn't," Randor snapped. "Of course there are!"  
  
Raising his eyebrows, Duncan leaned back again in the chair. "I was just going to say, you might tell him that more often. I think he feels sometimes that all you notice are his mistakes. And," Duncan paused for emphasis. "I don't think he's totally aware of what you and I might consider his strengths. It might make him feel less insecure if you shared that with him."  
  
Randor looked down at the blotter on his desk and contemplated this for a moment. "I'll give it some thought," he said. Duncan nodded, apparently satisfied. Randor wished he could share the sensation. "Now, Duncan, you came in here for a reason."  
  
"Ah, yes. I wanted to discuss a shifting of the guard with you. It turns out that Torvald's going to be out longer with that arm than we thought."  
  
"That leaves a hole in our interior guard placements."  
  
Duncan nodded. "That's just it. And in another few days, two members of his squad will be going on leave, so that just throws things further out of whack."  
  
Randor pursed his lips and pulled out his copy the guard duty roster. "Well, we could send Bran and Leif on leave early, shift the others to some other duty, and bring in that mixed squad of southern levies to fill their positions. I know that some of them have felt slighted because they haven't been given more responsible duties thus far." It had been a nightmare as well as a blessing when all the levies came in from their allies. Juggling their duties so that no one felt insulted had been an onerous task.  
  
"That's what I was thinking," Duncan said. "But I wanted to consult you because it concerned the levies."  
  
"Thank you, I appreciate that."  
  
"Well, I'd best be going." Duncan paused. "I really don't think you need to worry that much about Adam, Randor. He just needs a little time."  
  
"I wonder," Randor said. "Thank you for your advice." Duncan nodded and left.  
  
Randor studied the guard roster for a moment longer, then returned to the treaty he'd been working on.  
  
***  
  
Adam grimaced as he shut the door behind him. They'd been talking about him, he could tell. He doubted they had any idea just how transparent they were. He wondered whether Man-at-Arms would bother to tell him whatever extraordinary story he'd been telling his father. It was no fun being caught flatfooted when his father made some comment or asked a question.  
  
"What troubles you, young Adam?" Adam looked up with a start to see that the Lord of Avion had drawn up next to him, keeping up with his slow pace.  
  
Adam shrugged. "Nothing special. I'm just tired of watching snails zoom past me." Stratos chuckled, but unlike most of Adam's other friends, he didn't make any obnoxious suggestions about how to speed him up - a fact that Adam greatly appreciated. "What's going on with you, Stratos?"  
  
"Not a great deal," Stratos said. "I will be going back to Avion for a few days, but I wanted to tell you this before I left." Adam looked up, disappointed to hear that Stratos would be away. "You are doing very well, my boy. Your progress must seem invisible to you, but your recovery moves apace." Adam blinked, surprised by Stratos' words. "I know what it is like to be grounded, Adam. But do not fret, your wings will soon stretch again and let you fly."  
  
Adam smiled up at the Avion. "Thanks, Stratos. That does make me feel better."  
  
"I'm glad. I hope to see you in better spirits when I return."  
  
Adam sighed as he watched Stratos take flight and kept on at his snail's pace. He studiously ignored all the covert looks he got from those who passed him, some sympathetic, some merely curious. Though he knew his father had restricted knowledge of the details of his imprisonment at Snake Mountain to the Masters and the higher echelons of the guard, there was no one at court who did not know that Prince Adam had been severely injured by repeated attacks, then finally taken by bizarre flying imps called medesmas. Then he'd been in bed for the better part of two months.  
  
Once he'd been able to receive ordinary visitors. Adam had been deluged with company. Sometimes it had felt as if his father wanted to prove that Adam was still alive and well. Or at least recovering. So Adam had been cheerful and friendly till his jaws ached with the effort. Finally, Healer Dorgan had placed limits on the visits, declaring that his patient needed rest to recuperate.  
  
But enough people had seen him by them that fairly accurate descriptions of the prince's condition had made it around court. And so everyone watched him. For what, he wasn't always sure.  
  
Arriving at his second floor bedroom, he found that his guard had already been transferred. Of course! Even orders moved faster than he did. Though to be fair, his father had probably expedited these.  
  
Nodding to them, Adam opened his door and stepped inside. It was nice to be back in a space that he shared with no one, but after the tower room, these windows seemed very small, their view limited. Of course that did mean that herds of rampaging medesmas would have difficulties have difficulty removing him through them. Still. . .Adam looked out the windows at the palace garden.  
  
Maybe he should ask his father if he could move back into the tower room permanently once he could manage the stairs. He sighed, toying with the idea. What did it really matter. Bigger windows, different view. . . . Nothing would really change.  
  
He got up, slowly, and went to lay on the bed. He could hear children playing outside in the garden. Though he was tired and he wanted to, he found that he could not sleep, so he just lay there, listening to the endless rounds of tag till someone fetched him for dinner. 


	2. An Ultimatum

Invisible Chains

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Chapter Two 

Adam awoke suddenly in the night with the impression that he was falling. However, unlike most occasions on which he found himself jerked out of sleep by such a sensation, he landed.

He sat up sharply. This was not his bed. This was not his room. This was, in fact, no place he'd ever seen. The walls were bare and blank, constructed of a light-colored softwood. The bed he lay on was low to the ground and very narrow. The only furnishings visible apart from the bed were a rough-hewn table and two straight-backed chairs. 

A low, eerily familiar laugh sounded behind him and he turned to see - he blinked confusedly - it looked as if he, himself, was standing about four feet away wearing an overlarge guard's uniform. Coming up out of deep sleep like he had, it was extremely disorienting. But by some sense or other, he knew he wasn't dreaming. The whole feel of things was wrong for a dream. An uneasy feeling began to stir in his stomach. ** What is going on here? ** There was an intent look on that familiar face and Adam shivered slightly. Looking at this copy of himself wasn't like seeing He-Man in the cell at Snake Mountain. He'd barely ever seen He-Man's face, after all, when the need for He-Man cropped up, there wasn't a lot of time for looking into mirrors. But this was the face, and the body, he wore every day.

"Hello, Prince Adam," the - the - whoever it was - drawled in Adam's voice. The sound of it made Adam's flesh crawl. 

"Who are you?" Adam demanded.

A creepy smile spread across the imposter's face. "Would you believe I'm your twin brother?"

Adam stared at him in shocked horror. ** A twin? No, it couldn't be - could it? ** 

The imposter laughed again. "Why, I do believe you might. That might have made a better ploy by far - but your mother would certainly remember if she'd had twins."

Adam only realized that his heart had been racing when it slowed. "Then, who are you?" he reiterated. 

"Does it matter?" the fellow asked drolly, ruffling his hair. "When I return to the palace, everyone will think that I'm you."

"But why? Do you want to be king?" Adam knew what the next step would be if that were the case, and he prepared to dodge.

"That headache?" the double exclaimed. "Your father can have it. No, what I want won't take too long if that mechanic you spend so much time with is as good as his reputation claims."

"I don't understand. You want Man-at-Arms to make you something?" The copy nodded. "Then why not just petition my father? I'm sure something -"

"No, boy. Your father already turned my proposal down. Now it's time to take steps." Adam leaned forward to say something else, but his double waved a hand. "Enough of this. I must leave. Remove those pajamas."

Adam sat stupidly for a moment digesting that request, then said, "Why should I help you?"

The imposter shook his head condescendingly. "Let me put it simply for you, boy. How many people back at your palace could I just walk right up to looking like this?" Adam stiffened, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. "Especially if I paste one of your inane smiles on my face. One of those so-called 'Masters' of yours? That little red-haired creature? Your mother?" Adam's heart was in his throat. If this was leading where he thought it was. . . . The imposter walked over to one of the chairs by the table and rested a hand gently on its back, murmuring unintelligible syllables as he did so. The chair sparked very briefly, then collapsed into a pile of cinders. Adam gulped. "I just lay a hand lightly on a shoulder or an arm and 'poof!'" He grinned maliciously. "If I caught them all at private moments, who knows how many I could eliminate before anyone caught on." The imposter paused, measuring Adam with his eyes. "Your mother will be the first if you cross me," he said with a sinister smile.

Adam took a deep breath and clenched his teeth. Slowly, reluctantly, he removed his pajamas, one of several monogrammed pairs that his mother had made him while he was stuck in bed. The impostor watched him closely while he undressed, which made him acutely uncomfortable. He drew the cover from the bed across his lap before he pulled off the bottoms. The imposter raised an eyebrow and smirked. Adam felt himself redden. "So, what are you going to do with me?" Adam asked, tossing the clothes on the floor. He sort of hoped that the imposter would bend to pick them up. Man-at-Arms had taught him a couple of tricks that would enable him to knock the villain out in that position. Without a weapon, that was his best chance.

Instead, the man just reached out a hand, spoke another word and the clothing rose into his grasp. He shrugged. "Just leave you here." Adam wished he had some idea of where "here" was. The room was maybe twelve foot by twelve foot and utterly blank of feature. The ceiling and floor appeared to be more or less the same as the walls. A blazing ball of witchlight illuminated the space. The imposter lifted a finger, drawing his attention. "But there are rules." He quirked a smarmy grin. "Or one rule, actually. You may not try to leave this room. If one section of the wall around you is breached, I will know it instantly."

"How?" Adam demanded.

The imposter took a menacing step toward him. "Do I need to turn anything else to ash, boy?" Adam shrank back. "If you break through these walls, I will go immediately to find your mother, and she'll be dead before you get anywhere." Adam stared up at him, unable to think of any alternatives. "There are clothes for you under the bed. They will be replaced each day, and food will appear on the table at regular mealtimes. All waste, too, will be removed by magic. You will want for nothing."

"But what then? You don't intend to leave me here forever, do you?" Adam's voice squeaked on the word 'forever,' and he clamped his mouth shut.

The double threw back his head and laughed. "No, boy, no! When I get what I want, you will be returned to your father. You are a bargaining chip, no more."

He made a grand gesture that created a glowing circle in front of him, stepped forward, and was gone.

Adam sat for awhile, staring at the blank walls of this box. Then he rose and took the clothes out from under the bed, hastily putting them on. He adamantly didn't like being undressed under these circumstances. Then he sat back down on the bed. As far as he could tell, it was still deep night, and he could think of nothing productive to do. He lay back on the bed, pulling the cover over himself, and lay there a long time, staring up at the ceiling. 

****

Mekanek was surprised early the next morning to see Adam walking toward him across the courtyard. Like most teenagers, Adam tended to sleep in whenever possible. He looked well rested, though, and he seemed different somehow. Less tentative in his movements, perhaps.

It was amazing what a good night's sleep could accomplish, Mekanek reflected. That, and perhaps Stratos' little talk the day before had given the prince a boost.

Orko floated up to the prince and said something, Mekanek couldn't tell what. Adam rolled his eyes at the jester, and whatever he said made Orko stop dead in the air, slump, and float off dejectedly.

Adam kept walking, and didn't even seem to notice the Trollan's response to his brush off. When he drew near, Mekanek said, "Good morning, your highness." He nodded, and made as if to keep walking. "What brings you out of bed so early this morning?"

"I have something I want to talk to my father about," he said impatiently, starting immediately to turn away. 

Mekanek tilted his head. "Get up out of the wrong side of the bed this morning, Adam? And what did you say to Orko?"

"Nothing important," Adam said, shrugging. "That little red clown can be really annoying, you know?"

Mekanek didn't quite know what to say to that. Adam walked off toward the building where his father's office was. If he spoke like that to Randor, he'd get a bit of a bee in his ear, Mekanek thought. What was up with him these days? Depression didn't cut it. Being sulky was one thing, being callously rude to Orko was quite another.

****

When the door opened, Randor looked up from the massive pile of financial statements he was reviewing, ready to growl at the intruder for failing to knock. The angry remark died on his lips, however. Adam stood in the doorway, actually smiling.

Randor set aside the tax report and stood up. "Adam, good morning. How are you feeling today, son?"

"Fine, Father," Adam said. "I hate to interrupt you, but I'd like to talk."

Randor blinked. Adam wanted to talk to him? "Of course, Adam. What can I do for you, son?"

"Is there any way we could go somewhere a little more private?" Adam looked out into the hallway. "You know, where no one's likely to walk in?"

Was something wrong? He certainly didn't seem overly glum. "Of course. We'll go to my study." Randor set a slow pace so that Adam wouldn't overtax himself by trying to keep up. Adam walked silently beside him, his eyes scanning the people around them. Randor grew worried. The way Adam gazed around gave his father the direst of forebodings. Had something untoward happened? Did he have some suspicion of somebody?

When they reached the room, Randor closed the door swiftly and turned back to face his son. Adam waited, leaning against the heavy wood table that stood in the center of the room, arms crossed and head cocked in a most uncharacteristic manner. There was a smirk on Adam's face that he'd never seen there before.

"All right, Adam, what -"

Adam held up one finger to forestall him. "Can we be overheard here?" Randor shook his head. What was wrong with the boy today? As if in answer to his unvoiced question, the young man said, "Well, for starters, I'm not Adam."

Randor felt his eyes widen, and he stopped breathing. Had the stress been too much for Adam? Was he quite sane? Images of his son strapped to a bed, hopelessly mad, passed through his mind rapidly. He shook his head. It wasn't wise to borrow trouble. "What do you mean?" he asked, striving for a neutral tone.

Adam raised a supercilious brow. "Don't look at me that way, old man," he said in an amused voice. "I'm not crazy, but I am most assuredly not your son."

Now that he'd dropped all pretense, the young man did seem a completely different person. But. . . . But. . . . "It's not possible!" Randor exclaimed. "Unless -" a horrible thought struck him "- Evil-Lyn?"

The figure of Adam pushed himself up from his relaxed pose. Rage snapped in his eyes. "I've nothing to do with those fools at Snake Mountain! They are idiots who blunder about making things more difficult for -"

Randor's impatience got the better of him. "If you're not Adam, where is he?"

The boy broke off and gave him a malicious smile. Randor found it nauseating to see such an expression on Adam's face. "He's quite safe," the imposter drawled nonchalantly. "But a long way off. And he will stay safe just so long as you do what I tell you to do."

"What do you want?" Randor asked warily. Whoever this imposter was, he'd fooled him completely for at least that short trip through the halls. He was the very image of Adam. 

The fellow grinned impudently at him. This was both so unlike Adam, yet so like him, that Randor ground his teeth. "Don't you worry, your highness. I don't want that tinsel crown you wear on your head. I don't want to be prince or even king of Eternia. What a headache!"

Randor curbed an immediate impulse to give the insolent creature a headache he'd never forget, and merely grated, "So now I know what you don't want. What do you want?"

"Always to the point. Very direct, the jolly king of Eternia." He walked with a spring in his step halfway to the window, then stopped. After a brief pause, he started moving again, now imitating Adam's slow, careful walk. The acid in Randor's stomach churned. "Mustn't give people the wrong impression, you know," he said, turning back and leaning on the window sill. Randor was glad that a tall, bushy tree shielded that window so that no one could see in to see Adam's father gazing at him with hatred in his eyes. "Now, back to business. I want you to have your mechanic build me a tool."

"A tool?" Randor asked incredulously. ** What kind of a tool can he possibly want? **

"Yes, man, a tool. Don't tell me you've been king so long that you've forgotten what one is!" 

Randor felt himself reddening with anger at the fellow's impudent taunts, but he reminded himself that this imposter had complete control of Adam.

Or did he? The doppelganger had produced no evidence that he actually held Adam prisoner, for merely looking like Adam was no proof. "How do I know that you really have my son?" Randor asked. "What proof can you give me?"

"I'm assuming you want something short of a pinky?"

An image came unbidden to Randor's mind of Adam's finger in a white box tied with a purple ribbon. He found himself unable to breathe for a moment . Striving to maintain control, he raised an eyebrow. "Preferably," he grated through his teeth.

The imposter sauntered over to Randor and handed him a small object - a flat piece of river rock, about palm-sized, dark gray and polished to a brilliant sheen. Waving a careless hand across it, he said, "Activate." Suddenly the shiny surface seemed to drop away to reveal an overhead view of a small room with a table, a chair, a narrow cot and what looked to be a chamberpot.

And Adam. Clad in grey pajamas of some kind, he sat at the table, picking at a plate of food in front of him, much the way he'd been picking at all his meals for days now. It looked like a reasonable enough breakfast, and Randor wondered how it had been conveyed to him. Was there an accomplice that might be suborned?

As he watched, Adam hauled back with his fork and hurled it solidly at the wall so that it stuck there and vibrated. Randor wondered if he was imagining his doppelganger standing before him, and he sympathized wholeheartedly with the boy.

The double made tut-tutting sounds. "Naughty boy needs to control his temper," he said.

Randor fixed him with a steely glare. "Don't you touch a hair on his head!" he ordered.

The man, for Randor had realized by now that this controlled and insolent creature was no boy, just smiled back at him. "If I get what I want the way I want it, your precious Adam will be just fine."

A movement of the image drew Randor's attention back to the small rock. Adam stood up carefully and walked across the room. He yanked the fork savagely from the wall, then placed it across the barely touched plate. Then he began what Randor recognized as his physical therapy exercises. ** Good boy, ** Randor thought. ** Get your legs back under you. **

"That's enough." The double waved his hand across the image, saying, "Deactivate." He took the stone from Randor's suddenly nerveless hands. Adam had been taken - again. Right from under his nose - again. ** What kind of a father am I? What kind of a king? **

Mastering himself, he said merely, "What, precisely, do you want?"

"You're a very controlled sort of fellow, aren't you, Randor?" the imposter asked genially, watching his face. "You're going to give yourself an ulcer at this rate."

Randor clenched his fists with impotent rage. In calm, even tones, he asked, "What must I have Man-at-Arms build in order for you to return my son?"

"Oh, it's nothing too complicated, but I want it fast." He reached into his - Adam's - pocket and pulled out a somewhat battered scroll of paper. He spread it wide on the table, and Randor walked over to look at it, only to find the drawing startlingly familiar.

"But," he said slowly, his gaze rising to the imposter's face. "I've seen this before. Six months ago. That old historian from -"

"Yes, I know. Your response to my petition was very polite and to the point, but totally unacceptable." 

"You -" Randor broke off, shaking his head. "But he had impeccable references. Lord Kestarion vouched for him himself."

"Actually, I lifted the papers off the nice old geezer while pretending to be one of his students. I doubt he's missed them yet.

"Oh." Randor remembered the proposal clearly. "Well, fine then. I withdraw my objection. I'll move the village, you have your permit to dig."

The imposter shook his head in mock sorrow. "It's too late for that, Randor. That plan is now obsolete. I've done a bit more research since then. You'll note the changes to the design." He gestured and Randor did see them, mostly a matter of upgrading the materials and some of the joints. "The rock there is harder and denser than I'd originally anticipated."

Randor nodded curtly. "Fine, then. Man-at-Arms can build this I'm sure. I'll just evacuate the villagers and -"

"No!" The word came out of the imposter like a shot. Randor watched as he regained his control. "No," he said again, more casually. "I don't want to draw any more attention to that location than is strictly necessary. Just leave those villagers where they are."

Randor gave the doppelganger a suspicious look, but he didn't say anything. He could always move the villagers at the last minute. He'd have to work out an evacuation plan. . . . Shaking his head, he said, "I guess I'd better send for Man-at-Arms." He reached for the bellpull, but the imposter put a restraining hand on his arm. 

"Wait," the man said. Randor's skin crawled at the touch of the ersatz Adam, and he jerked his arm away. The fellow smiled lazily at his reaction. "Do you think I have any chance of fooling your closest friend and advisor, as well as Adam's mentor?"

"Fooling him? But -"

The imposter shook his head and sighed. "If Duncan is let in on this little situation, he'll manufacture a thousand delays. A secret is safest when only one person knows it."

Randor raised an eyebrow. "You and I make two," he pointed out.

"Me?" the imposter said, his voice lightening into Adam's tones. "I'm just Adam. I don't know anything!" Grinning Adam's carefree grin, he walked toward the door. 

"Wait," Randor exclaimed before he realized he was speaking. The double turned back and gave him a curious look. "How do I know you won't kill Adam the minute you're out of my sight?"

"Paranoid, aren't we?" The fraudulent prince chuckled. "But I suppose I can understand why." He tossed Randor the stone. "You know the words I used to make it work. Just be careful no one else sees it." He went back to the door, giving Randor a jaunty wave. But he paused, his hand on the door knob and turned back. "Oh, and if I get the notion that you've told anyone, even your dear, sweet wife, I'll cripple him in some way that neither you, nor he, will ever forget." His eyes narrowed. "And I'll still expect my machine." With that, he opened the door and left. The door swung shut behind him, Randor sank into the chair at the end of the table. He sat there for a long time, unable to fathom what to do next, staring at the smooth surface of the gray rock.


	3. Oversights

Closing his hands around it, he let his forehead drop to rest against his thumbs. He was still sitting immobilized when a soft knock jarred him from his troubled thoughts. He took several deep breaths, and, slipping the stone into a pocket, he went to open the door. 

Marlena stood there and her presence so soon after the reprobate who had taken their son's form had left nearly broke him down. Marlena would never forgive him if he didn't tell her, but he didn't dare. He looked away from her eyes.

"Randor," she said. "I just saw Adam. He seems in better spirits today."

"Yes. I agree." Randor looked down at his hands.

With her usual perspicuity, Marlena said, "Is something troubling you?" He didn't respond. "Is it about Adam?"

"No, my dear," he lied. "I just have a great deal of work I've left on my desk."

"Oh, I see." She didn't look entirely convinced, but she changed the subject. "I reminded him that he still has to go to physical therapy, and he didn't seem to mind. Perhaps he really is feeling better."

"Perhaps," Randor said, cursing himself for lying to her. "I'm sorry, Marlena, I really must get back to my desk." He went back to the table and picked up the plans, then moved past her.

He could feel her eyes on his back as he went down the hall. What was he going to say to her? How could he behave normally around that - that imitation of his son? Sunk in this inner turmoil, he returned to his office and sat down heavily behind his desk, head in his hands, pondering just how he was going to put this to Duncan.

After a moment, he reached into his pocket and drew out the flat rock. Caressing its smoothness in his hands, he spoke the word. "Activate."

The image appeared again. Adam was walking slowly but determinedly in circles around the room. Randor placed the rectangular bit of stone flat on the desk and watched. His blond hair was disheveled, and Randor realized that he could see no sign of toiletries in the room. He pursed his lips, irritated by that lack. Randor watched his son for a long while. It had been so hard to watch Adam stuck in bed, forcing himself to be cheerful. He'd always been a very active boy. And social. A long bout of enforced solitude wouldn't be easy on him.

He'd give his left leg to be able to speak to the boy. Perhaps if he asked politely - Randor growled and brought his fist down with a crash on the desk. The rock bounced, and Randor sucked in his breath, afraid for a moment that he'd damaged the magical artifact. He didn't want to ask that creature for anything.

A rattling of the doorknob alarmed him. He snatched up the enchanted stone and, not daring to speak, shoved it into his pocket with the image still going.

Duncan ran in. "Randor, something very odd is happening. Cringer's got Adam pinned in a corner, and he won't let anyone near him."

"What?" Randor hadn't thought about the cat. Neither had the imposter, clearly, but Cringer's reactions while Adam had still been confined to bed had given strong evidence of his protectiveness toward his young master. And obviously, the double hadn't duplicated his scent.

Man-at-Arms said, "Follow me!" Randor ran out of the room after him and they soon came to a chaotic scene. Half the court was gathered around, though they all kept a wary distance. All but Teela, who had started walking toward Cringer.

"Teela," Randor snapped in a commanding tone. She froze and looked at him. The double looked wonderfully terrified and oddly grateful to see him. "Teela," he said again, in a more moderate tone, "back off." Teela obeyed without question. Randor walked over to Cringer's side. All of Cringer's fur was standing on end, and he seemed swollen to twice his normal size. His tail lashed back and forth as he growled at the imposter. "Adam? Have you done something to annoy him?" The imposter seemed caught in his terror, unable to react to anything else.

"Randor," Duncan said incredulously, "this is more than annoyance."

Randor nodded resignedly. "Cringer," he said in a firm tone, the cat looked up at him. "Stand down." An expression of desperation entered the cat's eyes, and he seemed bewildered. He looked back at the imposter and growled again, then looked at Randor. Sighing, for this was not kind to Cringer, Randor bent and gripped Cringer's scruff firmly. "Stand down, Cringer. What's gotten into you?"

Cringer started to struggle against him, but Randor gave him a shake and said, "Come along. We'll have Dorgan take a look at you." He dragged the cat off toward the infirmary, the crowd parting as he went. This was going to take some explaining. Cringer let off howls of protest as he pulled him away.

During the time Dorgan examined the cat thoroughly and, puzzled, pronounced him healthy, Randor had time to come up with a story that would cover the occasion. Not well, perhaps, but at least some sort of explanation he could give for the cat's behavior. When Duncan asked Dorgan what could possibly have caused this, Randor pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Do you suppose, Duncan, that Beastman could somehow be affecting him?"

Duncan's eyes widened, and Dorgan gave an alarmed whistle. Cringer threw a betrayed look up at him, a low growl sounding in his throat. Randor gave him a covert scratch and the cat subsided in apparent confusion.

"But then why," Duncan started, shaking his head. "Why would he obey you?"

"He didn't really. Beastman's orders may have been too specific for him to be certain what to do. I don't know. It's just a thought, really."

"An alarming one," Dorgan said, gazing down at the cat.

"Yes. I think we'd better lock Cringer up for a time, until we can be sure of just what is going on."

Duncan nodded reluctantly. "He seems all right now."

"I know, but we can't be sure when he might do it again. What if he had an attack like this while Adam was asleep?" Randor suddenly realized that this was all too plausible. Was it possible? Once this was over, they'd better look into it. 

Between them, they dragged Cringer to a room near the infirmary and locked him in. "I'll devise some sort of cage for him, so he can be fed safely," Duncan said as they walked away, listening to the sound of Cringer's agonized howls. They both winced at every yowl. Randor felt like a villain and a traitor for preventing Cringer from protecting his master. Somehow, he'd have to make the cat understand.

"Duncan, I need to talk to you in my office." Man-at-Arms nodded, and they walked in silence back to Randor's office. Randor picked up the scroll, preparing to hand it to his friend, but he was forestalled by Duncan.

"We're going to have to do something about this. Cringer is -"

Randor cursed internally. Of course Duncan would assume he wanted to talk to him about the problem with Cringer. He thought desperately, then came up with a solution. "I'll put Man-E-Faces on it. He seems to have managed to resist Beastman himself, perhaps he can think of something." Duncan nodded thoughtfully, and opened his mouth. Randor lifted the scroll to draw his attention. "I have something I need you to build."

"Oh?" Duncan tilted his head curiously.

"Yes, it's a digging machine." He spread the plans out on the desk. "Do you think you can construct this?"

Duncan leaned over the plans, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, I do believe I could, though it would take time. Randor, I don't -"

"How much time?" Randor asked. 

"Several weeks at least," Duncan said, surprised by Randor's impatient interruption. "I don't understand what you need it for, though. And who designed it?"

"Weeks? Why weeks?" ** Adam, alone in that little box for weeks. No, that's completely unacceptable. **

"Some of these materials are extremely rare." Pointing out various features, he said, "I don't have any dendromine in my stores. And the elpinar is - well, it's very hard to find." Randor just stared at him for a moment, stymied. He hadn't considered supply difficulties. "You do know that I haven't finished with those -"

"I need this as soon as you can possibly produce it." Randor shook his head and waved at Duncan to stop. He did, clearly taken aback. "Find the supplies you need however you can. You can use whichever of the masters you need."

Duncan looked sharply at his face. "What is it, Randor? What aren't you telling me?"

Randor gritted his teeth, irritation making his tone snappish. "I am telling you that I need this machine yesterday, and you're still here talking to me. I'll tell you what you need to know when I am ready."

Duncan stiffened into a precise parade rest. "Yes, sire," he said, his tone curt and formal. Randor could tell that he was hurt and confused behind the soldier mask, but he could do nothing about it. Duncan gave him an abrupt nod and, turning on his heel, marched out of the office. Randor leaned back against the desk, weary beyond words. 

A moment later, the door opened and the imposter strode in, slamming it behind him. He started to speak, but Randor held up a hand. "I think we'd better have this conversation in my study," he said. The fellow glared, but he nodded. They proceeded once more through the halls and Randor ushered him into the study, locking the door behind them to prevent any curious wives or friends from peeking in. He'd made both of them suspicious. It was only a matter of time before they started talking to each other.

"I want that cat -"

"How long were you striding about like that?" Randor demanded, cutting across his words. "If you don't want anyone to guess that something's wrong, you'd best curb your reactions!" 

The imposter stiffened as though he'd been struck. Then he nodded slowly. "You're right. One hopes that they will put it down to adrenaline." Randor just gave him an irritated glare. "I want that cat put down. He's dangerous."

"He is the most timid creature alive," Randor said, "until you put his master in danger. Which you've done. Idiot!"

"Well you can see that he's a danger to us in this situat-" The imposter's words broke off in a squeak as Randor pinned him against the wall, one hand on his neck. 

"'Us?' First of all, there is no 'us.' Second, if you want to make everyone in this palace certain that either Adam's gone insane or that you're not Adam, go right ahead and recommend that the cat he's doted on since childhood be put down because of one aberrant action."

The doppelganger blinked at him, looking stunned. His hands were wrapped around Randor's wrist, and it was clear from his expression that he found the king's strength alarming. Randor judged that he'd had enough and let him loose. He slid sideways away from him, then pushed himself off the wall and stood in the center of the room. 

"Fine. I guess you probably know better than I how your moronic son would react in this situation. But you are going to order me to stay away from that animal, so that I don't have to go near it and pretend to care. It would be a bad idea for me to do so anyway, to judge by his reaction today."

"Very well. Now, if you really want to avoid arousing suspicion, I suggest that you put on a very sullen expression, the one you've got now would do very well, and hobble back to your room. And stay there the rest of the day. Adam would not be thrilled to be forbidden to visit Cringer, no matter what the reason."

The double glared, but he made to follow the advice. Before he opened the door, however, he turned back. "By the way, for that little show of temper, your son will be missing a few meals." Then he rapidly exited the room. Randor slammed his fist into the wall.

***

Adam lay back on the bed, contemplating his prison. Six flat, blank squares of yellow wood. What lay beyond them? He didn't dare try to find out. If it wasn't enough that the wizard had threatened his mother with death, he had no idea what lay on the other side. He could be underground, in the middle of a forest, or even under water. 

Breakfast had appeared in the exact center of the table top. Adam hadn't eaten much. He hadn't been very hungry lately, anyway. After working on his legs for awhile, he'd placed the plate back in the center of the table, just to see what would happen. A few moments later it had vanished. He contemplated standing in the center of the table to see where it took him, but he somehow doubted that would be effective. Besides, what if the plate just became nothing? Adam shuddered at the thought.

It was very quiet in this box. He heard a slight click on the table and sat up to see what it was. Another plate and glass had appeared in the center of the table, but there was no food. A slip of paper lay across the middle of the plate instead. There was water in the glass, though.

It was about lunchtime, he pondered. Curious, he got up and picked up the paper. 

There was a terse sentence written in a bold hand. "You have your father to thank for your lack of lunch."

Adam blinked in astonishment, then he chuckled. "I guess Dad must have gotten under the little rodent's skin." He snorted. "Go Dad." After a moment, he tucked the page under his mattress. It might come in handy later. He drank the water, then went back to lay down on the bed. This was already getting old. "Are we there yet?" he murmured, then he sighed.

***

Randor stared at the image in the depths of the stone. Poor Adam. That vindictive little weasel. The note was taking it a step too far. He got up and went to Adam's room. He nodded at the guards as he went in, then locked the door. The imposter glanced up at him, scowled and looked back out the window.

"There's something of a hitch in your planning," he said, sitting down next to the imposter on the window seat. The fellow shifted himself a little sideways, away from Randor, who felt a stirring of satisfaction. 

"A hitch?" he demanded skeptically. "Are we talking about something that would make Adam uncomfortable?"

"Actually, yes, but not in the way you mean. First of all, the materials you want used in that device are rare and will take some time to gather. According to Duncan, it could be several weeks."

The little weasel looked up at him suspiciously. "You're not just delaying?"

"Why would I delay? I want Adam back now." Randor pursed his lips. "Which brings me to my second point. The way you're treating Adam is unacceptable."

"You brought the food deprivation on yourself."

"Not that. The boy can survive a lost meal or two. It's the blankness of the space, the lack of anything to look at, much less do." His enemy looked up at him, seeming perplexed. Randor shook his head. "It's a form of torture. Surely you know, or -" He knit his brows. "You've never been a prisoner, have you? And never held one?"

"Not in the sense you mean," he said gruffly. "But I think I know what you're getting at." Randor nodded encouragingly. "I'll give it some thought."

"Thank you," Randor said, standing up and walking out. 

As he shut the door, Randor looked up to see Duncan coming towards him. "How is he?" he asked, gesturing at Adam's room.

"A bit shaken is all," Randor said, not moving aside. "He wants to be alone."

"Well, sulking in there isn't good for him. I've got something that's -"

"Leave him be, Duncan!" Randor said sharply. His vehemence was more than he had intended, and Duncan's eyes widened slightly. The guard on the door seemed to go invisible, he was ignoring them so thoroughly. Randor put a mollifying hand on his friend's arm, gently but firmly steering him away. "I've just asked him to stay away from Cringer for awhile and he's not very pleased with me."

"Are you sure that's wise, sire?"

"Are you sure it isn't?" Randor countered before Duncan could marshal any cogent arguments. "Adam isn't really in any condition to flee if Cringer turns on him, and I'm not willing just yet to bet his life on Cringer's ability to resist another's control." Randor offered up silent apologies to the cat and promised himself that he'd make it up to him.

Duncan stopped and caught his arm, forcing Randor to stop as well. "But, sire!" he started.

Randor hated himself for it, but he dared not get into a long debate with Duncan, or his oldest and dearest friend would see through his dissembling. He hardened his expression, and gazed sternly at Duncan. "Don't you have a task that needs to be completed, Man-at-Arms?" he said coldly.

That brought Duncan up short. Randor saw the confusion and dismay in Duncan's eyes before he smoothed them over. He bowed and murmured, "As you wish, sire." Then he walked off down the hall without looking back. Randor turned away, ignoring the curious and concerned stares of the passers-by, and returned to his office to gaze upon Adam in his prison.

When dinner time came, a servant knocked and delivered his meal. Randor covered up the magical device while the servant was present, but ignored his food. Another empty plate had appeared on Adam's table. The boy just shrugged and went to bed, but Randor sat and simmered. He stayed in the office all night, falling asleep finally over the top of the viewer. He was awakened in the morning by a servant coming in to bring him breakfast. His stomach growled but he disregarded the tray. When the servant was gone, he looked back at Adam. The boy was gazing at yet another empty plate. How many meals was he going to miss?

Randor wanted to go order the imposter to feed his son, but he didn't dare antagonize him. Instead, he went to look in on Cringer. The great cat was lying despondently on the floor behind the bars that Man-at-Arms had installed, his head resting on his enormous paws. Randor opened the passgate and went to sit on the floor beside Cringer, who gazed up at him reproachfully.

He put a hand on Cringer's head, and Cringer shook him off. 

"Cringer, I'm sorry. There was nothing else I could do." The cat's eyes narrowed skeptically. "No, really. I know that's not Adam." He figured telling the cat could do no harm since he clearly already knew, and he couldn't exactly tell anyone else. "But that villain's got Adam, and he might hurt him if we don't do just what he says." Cringer's eyes widened, and he licked Randor's hand. "I'm doing what I can. I'll think of something to get us out of this, Cringer. But for now, you have to stay here. I'm sorry I made those rotten suggestions about why you were growling at Adam, but I couldn't think of anything else." 

Cringer shifted so that he could lay his head across Randor's lap. The king guessed that he was forgiven. "I must say, though, it gave me a great deal of satisfaction to see that weasel cowering in terror." Cringer butted against his hand with his head, and Randor sat there for a long, long while, petting his son's cat and wondering how he could possibly rescue the cat's boy.

Hours later, he got up and went back to his office, giving Cringer a final rub. He'd better at least try to get some work done.

***

Adam stretched his legs in all the ways Dorgan had told him to. He couldn't lift the weights since they weren't here, but he walked around the room in circles until he was dizzy. Then he turned around and walked the other way. Just to keep his mind occupied, he started reciting all the poetry he'd ever been forced to memorize as he walked. 

An empty plate was delivered at lunch. He ignored it, knowing that it would be whisked away before long, but he did drink the glass of water. All the exercise he'd been getting had made him thirsty. He sat for awhile at the table and rested his legs. The he dragged himself back to his feet. He wanted his legs to be strong again so he could kick that rotten imposter all the way to Snake Mountain and back.


	4. Lies and Consequences

Chapter 4 - Lies and Consequences

Randor looked up from watching Adam pace to see that the sun was westering in the sky. He blinked with alarm and stood up. When did court start today? He took a last glance at Adam, said, "Deactivate," and swept the viewer up and into his pocket. 

As he started across the room, the door opened and Duncan peered in. "Your highness," he said when he saw that Randor was within. "Is something wrong? Court was due to start a half hour ago."

"I know, I'm sorry," Randor said. "I got distracted." Duncan stepped back to let Randor pass, but the king got an image of what was awaiting him in the throne room. Disputes over livestock and land, petitions about merchants' rights, or customers' rights, or both. Long winded supplicants who just wanted to hear themselves speak. He couldn't do it. Not today, not with Adam locked away in a box no one knew where. 

His grimace must have been obvious, for Man-at-Arms closed the door, and said, "Randor, what's wrong? I can see that something's troubling you."

"It's nothing," Randor said, trying to toss it off as if it were true. "I just have a headache." Rubbing his forehead, he sighed. "Cancel court for me today, would you, Duncan?" Duncan nodded, his eyes very worried, and Randor walked past him. "I'm going to my study."

"Maybe you should rest, your highness," Duncan suggested.

He shook his head. "I'm going to my study," he repeated, and walked down the hall.

Once there, he walked over to the window, resisting the impulse to reactivate the view into Adam's little world. It was incredibly necessary, though, for him to watch the boy. As long as he was watching, he knew what was happening. He couldn't stand the thought that something dreadful might happen while he was occupied elsewhere. Before he give in to temptation, there was a knock at the door. He determined to ignore it, but the knock came again, this time more insistent. 

Growling, he walked across to the door and opened it. Dorgan stood there, hand upraised to continue knocking. He tilted his head and gazed up at the king. "Are you going to let me in, or shut the door in my face?" he asked in his sardonic tones.

"What do you want, Dorgan?" Randor growled, hoping that his obvious hostility would cause the man to leave. 

"I want to have a private discussion with the father of one of my patients," Dorgan said irritably. "Let me in, Randor." With ill grace, knowing that Dorgan's patient was well beyond his reach, Randor stepped back and let the healer in. He went over and sat glumly in a chair, prepared to hear whatever Dorgan's complaint was. He looked up in surprise, though, when the healer started to speak. "So how long have you had this headache, Randor?" Dorgan asked walking over and putting a hand under Randor's chin.

Randor tried to extricate himself, but the healer just gripped firmly and gazed into his eyes. "No dilation, that's good. Where exactly does it hurt?"

He took Dorgan's wrist in his hand and pushed the healer away. "It's just a headache, Dorgan. Nothing you need to worry about. What, did Duncan run to you the minute I left him?"

Dorgan slowly straightened, an expression Randor dreaded on his face. The healer was about to give him the third degree about his symptoms, and Randor just wasn't up to trying to invent an illness. "All right, Randor, I can see that you're going to be stubborn. Sit down, boy, and tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, Dorgan. I have a headache, that's all." Randor walked over to the window and looked out. Just yesterday Adam had stood by that fountain with Mekanek and Teela.

"Are you worried about Adam?" the healer asked.

Randor stiffened. "No," he growled. "Adam's fine!" 

There was silence behind him for a moment, then Dorgan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I never said he wasn't. Randor, it's natural that you would worry about your son after the events of the last few months, but if you worry yourself sick, you won't do yourself or him any good."

Randor shook his head, and made a disbelieving noise low in his throat. Much to his alarm, the noise continued and morphed into a laugh that he couldn't control. He clamped his hands over his mouth to stifle the hysterical laughter that tried to burst from him. It very quickly shifted to sobs, which he could control no more effectively than the laughter. Dorgan grabbed him by the shoulders and guided him to a chair. 

"What is it, Randor?" the healer asked, eyes dark with worry. "I struck a nerve, that's clear, but you must talk to me."

Randor shuddered with sobs for a long while, then finally he lay back, worn out by the emotions that had wracked him. He took several long, deep breaths, then said, "No, I can't. That's just it, I can't tell anyone."

Dorgan lifted an eyebrow. "Well, you're going to tell me, or I'll have you in the infirmary so quick you won't know what hit you."

"No!" Randor exclaimed. "No, I have to be - to be - I can't be locked away in the infirmary."

"So tell me what's going on, Randor." The old healer sighed. "Do I have to make a promise of silence? Like when you sprained your wrist when you were twelve trying to -"

"Dorgan, it's nothing that paltry." Randor shook his head. He knew Dorgan; he'd do what he threatened. And with the looks he'd been getting from Marlena and Duncan, they'd probably go along with it. "All right. If you swear you won't tell anyone, anyone at all."

Dorgan looked suspicious, but he nodded. "I trust that you have good reason for this, Randor." The way he said it meant that he'd be quite annoyed if Randor's reason wasn't good enough. Randor wasn't worried about that, he just hoped that Dorgan could keep the secret. Dorgan pursed his lips and said, "I swear that I will tell no one."

Randor gazed into Dorgan's eyes. "A shapeshifter has kidnapped Adam and taken his place." Dorgan's eyebrows raised into his hair line. "He's holding Adam hostage to force me to do his will."

"What?" Dorgan narrowed his eyes. "Skeletor, or one of his lackeys?"

Randor shrugged, but shook his head. "It was the first thing I thought of as well, but it really doesn't seem to be the case this time."

"What does he want?" Randor opened his mouth to speak, but Dorgan rushed on. "Randor, you're not doing it, are you? You can't! Rotten as it is, you're king first and father second."

"He just wants Duncan to make something. I'm playing along to buy time. I'll figure something out, I'm sure."

Dorgan shook his head dubiously, but he shrugged. "As long as nobody gets hurt," he said. "You know the boy would never cope with that." Randor nodded agreement, thinking of Adam's sweet nature. "Where is Adam?" Dorgan asked suddenly.

Shaking his head, Randor said, "I don't know. He could be in the basement of the palace or on the other side of the planet for all I know."

"Is he being properly taken care of? What are the conditions he's in? Does he have enough food? Enough rest? Have you asked any of these questions? They're not hurting him, are they?" Dorgan's questions came so quickly after each other that Randor couldn't get a word in edgewise. Finally the old healer had to take a breath.

"I can show you," he said, reaching into his pocket for the viewer. "Activate." Dorgan leaned over it with avid interest. 

"That's a tiny room. Is that the only space he has?"

"Yes, but he is exercising."

"Is he?" Dorgan was leaning close, peering at the images. "That's peculiar. An empty plate just appeared on the table."

Randor slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. "That vile, deceitful, cruel, vindictive -" He snatched the small stone back and gazed into it. Adam was looking at the plate with disgust. Raising an eyebrow, he bent and picked the offending object up. Holding it like a discus, he flung it into the wall where it shattered into a thousand pieces. 

**

Adam surveyed the destruction he'd caused with delight. What, was the imposter trying to make him angry at his father? It wasn't his father's fault he was here. It wasn't his father's idea to keep sending empty plates. The pottery shards, however, gave him an idea. Sorting through them, he pulled out the longest ones with sharp ends that he could find. Gathering the others up, he dropped them in the middle of the table with a malicious grin. Then he picked up the biggest of the shards and contemplated it.

**

"What's he going to do with that?" Dorgan asked with an oddly nervous tone in his voice. "How long has he been there, Randor? How long without food?"

"Two days," Randor said. "And he hasn't eaten since yesterday's breakfast."

"He couldn't - he wouldn't -"

"What?" Randor demanded, not taking his eyes off Adam. "He wouldn't what?" The boy, unaware of the alarm he was causing back at the palace, walked across the room and dug into the wall with the end of the broken piece of pottery.

"Oh, thank goodness," Dorgan sighed, all the tension running out of him. He sat down, and Randor glanced over at him curiously. "He's been so depressed lately, and I thought he might - if he was afraid the fellow was going to really stop feeding him - that he might just do away with himself."

Randor throat constricted, and he looked back at where Adam was carving in the wall. He was alive, and he wasn't doing anything alarming. Just carving hash marks. One, two, three. . .six? What was he counting? Oh, plates. That's how many meals had been represented by the plates sent to him. Randor took a deep breath and turned to the healer. "Dorgan, please do me the favor of never making that suggestion again," Randor said in a strained voice. "I don't think my heart can take it."

"What sort of exercise is he doing?" Dorgan asked. 

"Mostly walking. This morning he did a fair number of stretching exercises, and then he walked around the room in circles for most of the day."

"He's going to wear himself out that way." Dorgan watched as Adam started carving words on a different wall. "Though it's not as if there's anything to do in there."

Randor's eyes narrowed. "I pointed that out to his double, but he says he has to think about it."

"Well point it out again, Randor. Be forceful."

"I don't want to antagonize him. He's threatened to -" Randor paused, then grabbed the healer's arm with an iron grip. "Dorgan, you really can't tell anybody what you know! He threatened to cripple Adam if I told anyone."

Dorgan raised an eyebrow, his expression growing remarkably determined. "He touches that boy and I will lay him out flat. I didn't spend the last two months getting him back in shape just so some evil twerp could break him again."

Randor agreed with the substance, if not the detail, of Dorgan's rant. "In any case, you must treat the imposter just as if he were Adam," he said, releasing the healer's arm.

"Which means hassling him about missing his physical therapy." Dorgan grinned maliciously. "Well, your highness, I have a prescription for you. Eat your dinner tonight and -"

"I can't," he said, shaking his head. "I can't watch Adam be delivered an empty plate and then eat."

"It won't do the boy any good if you weaken yourself," the healer said remonstratively. "Eat your dinner and if that moron doesn't feed Adam tomorrow, we'll go to work on him together." Randor shrugged noncommittally. "I think I'll tell Duncan that you're having migraines. That ought to keep him occupied for awhile. Stay in here most of the time and close the drapes." With that, Dorgan turned and left the room. Self-consciously scanning his memory for the symptoms of migraine, Randor closed all the drapes.

Shortly thereafter, a servant knocked with a tray of food. Randor sent him away. He couldn't bear the thought of eating while Adam went without, no matter what Dorgan said.

He stretched out on the couch under the windows and watched Adam well into the night. He hadn't spent this much time watching that boy sleep since he was a tiny baby. That rotten little weasel was going to pay for this.

****

Randor awakened the next morning to see Marlena sitting at the table with a tray of breakfast steaming before her. She had apparently been waiting for him to wake up. He was surprised that she'd managed to get into the room without waking him in the first place.

When she saw that his eyes were open, she walked over and squatted so that their faces were on the same level. Randor wondered suddenly where the viewer was. Where had it fallen? If Marlena saw it. . . . He relaxed when his questing hand found that it had fallen behind the couch cushion. He left it there and met Marlena's eyes. She looked furious.

"All right, Randor, what's going on?" she demanded.

He squinted his eyes and brought a hand up to cover them. "I don't know what you mean, Marlena," he muttered. "I don't feel all that well this morning."

"Small wonder with you sleeping on a couch that isn't long enough for you. Get up, Randor. It's time for breakfast, and you need to eat."

"I'm not really hungry, Marlena," he said. "Please, just leave me alone. Dorgan said I needed to rest."

Marlena stood up so that she was looming over him. It was amazing how so small a woman could loom so successfully. He sat up. His head really did hurt. 

"You want me to leave you alone?" she repeated icily.

"Just for now, Marlena," he said, not meeting her eyes. "I have to work through this on my own."

"I see." Her lips were tightly compressed together. "Very well." She turned and walked to the door of the study. "Eat your breakfast," she ordered as she let herself out.

Randor looked at the food, but he didn't really feel very hungry this morning. Probably because he'd already missed a full day's meals.

Reaching into the couch, he pulled out the magical stone and gazed at Adam, doing his stretching exercises, totally ignoring the empty plate that sat on the table. He'd give the villain till lunch. If there wasn't food on that table by lunch time today, that imposter was going to be hurting.

****

A light, hesitant tapping on his shoulder brought Mekanek back down to earth again, literally. He'd been observing some activity far out on the fertile plains while his body remained seated on the fountain in the courtyard. He didn't want to leave the palace because, of the masters, only he, Ram-Man and Duncan remained. The others had been sent off on errands for the machine that the king was having built. As his head descended back to shoulder height, he wondered who it could be. He'd grown used to identifying his friends by the way they tapped him while his head was in the clouds. Ram-Man's fingers were larger than those of anyone else he knew, and he was prone to tickling. Buzz-Off tapped sharply, always and only three times. Stratos didn't tend to tap, but he'd startled Mekanek a time or two by flying out to find him.

He glanced down as his body came into easy view and saw that Queen Marlena was standing next to him. Worried, he wondered what she wanted. It wasn't like the queen to interrupt him in this way. He stood as his neck retracted the last few feet. "Your highness, what can I do for you?" he asked, inclining his head respectfully.

Marlena gestured that he sit and joined him on the edge of the fountain. It was just past luncheon and the king would be holding court later, so the courtyard was largely deserted. The guard he'd asked to keep an eye out for mischief-makers caught his eye and Mekanek nodded, dismissing him. 

Then he gave all his attention to the queen, whose expression was very troubled indeed. "Your highness, what's wrong?"

She looked into his eyes and sighed. "That's just the trouble, I can't be sure anything is wrong. But things don't feel right." She was definitely anxious, Mekanek thought as he watched her worry at her wedding band.

"Is there anything I can do to help you find out, your highness?"

She nodded, and an look of distaste came over her features. "Much as I dislike it, I believe there is." Mekanek watched as her expression shifted from distaste to worry to determination. "As one of Randor's oldest friends, I believe I can ask this of you, though I fear it will make you very uncomfortable." Mekanek didn't know what to say, so he just waited for his queen to come to her point. "In fact," she continued, "I shall quite understand it if you refuse to undertake this task."

"Your highness, I -"

She held up a hand. "No, my friend, don't make any rash promises. Wait until you know what I want." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then let it all out in a rush of words. "I want you to keep a quiet eye on my husband."

Mekanek stared at her in shock. "You want me to spy on the king?" he asked in a low voice, just to make sure he'd heard right.

"I know how it sounds, but he's acting very strangely. "He's not eating his meals and he hasn't been sleeping in his bed at night. I'd understand it if there was some crisis, but everything seems normal."

"Didn't Dorgan say he was having trouble with migraines?" Mekanek asked.

She gave an irritated snort. "That doesn't explain everything. Did you hear about Cringer's odd behavior toward Adam day before yesterday?" Mekanek nodded. That had been a bizarre story, but Teela wasn't given to exaggeration. "Well, according to some of those I've spoken to, Randor seemed to take the whole thing as a joke. Adam's standing, horrified, and his father's spouting witticisms." That did sound odd. Marlena's bewildered eyes caught at Mekanek's heart. 

He whistled with dismay. "I must say, that doesn't sound much like Randor."

"And he actually rebuked Duncan in public." Mekanek jaw dropped. "Most of the other masters have been sent hither and yon, searching for strange materials so that Duncan can build a device that Randor wants for some unknown and unspoken purpose. He's not talking to me, he's not talking to Duncan. Something odd is going on, and I want you to do what you can to find out what." Mekanek just stared at her for a long moment, mightily disturbed by what he'd heard. Randor's queen wasn't a hysteric, and he'd never seen her so nervous. 

She pursed her lips and prepared to stand up. "Now is when you tell me I'm just being silly," she said, a resigned expression on her face. "All I ask is you don't tell Randor any of this."

"Wait, your highness!" Her eyes returned to his face, and she subsided back to the side of the fountain. "I didn't say no. I'm just," he shook his head, "shocked, I guess. I'll do what I can."

She smiled at him tightly, got up and walked swiftly away toward her apartments. Mekanek watched her go, pondering how best to go about the unusual task she had set him. He would have to go at it delicately. There was an ugly word reserved for those caught spying on their kings. And as he would never dream of implicating Marlena, he would have no defense. 

Getting up, Mekanek stretched. Stratos was due back later today. Maybe he'd have some ideas. Though the queen hadn't said that he could mention it to anyone else. He'd better ask her before involving the Avion.

He wandered through the gardens toward the building which housed the king's study. Some considered it odd that Randor had both an office and a study in different parts of the palace complex, but it had been the queen's idea. She determined that Randor have a place where he could spend some time in privacy. For her to be suggesting that Mekanek violate that privacy - well, it was a measure of how worried she really was. Ah, good. There was a good bushy tree next to one of the study windows. No one seemed to be around, so Mekanek just sort of casually swung himself onto one of the lower branches. He climbed upward a few feet or so to a point where his body was hidden from easy view. Then he carefully extended his neck, twisting in and out among the branches nearest the trunk, finally gaining a marginally obstructed view in through Randor's partially open window. 

The king sat at a table, and Mekanek could see the edge of what appeared to be a fully laden breakfast tray that was pushed aside. That was certainly a hard boiled egg, anyway. Randor seemed utterly focused on . . . on . . . What was that thing he was looking at?


	5. Gifts

Chapter 5  
  
As the morning wore on, Randor watched as Adam slowed down. He did about half of his stretching exercises, but as he progressed, his motions grew half-hearted. "Go on, son, keep working your legs," he murmured, even knowing that Adam couldn't hear him. Having Adam ignore his advice was a familiar sensation. Randor sighed. "Maybe," he groused, "if Duncan came and muttered at this thing, Adam would listen to him."  
  
Randor shook his head. This was self-indulgent. It didn't really matter that the only time Adam had come to speak with him at any length lately he'd been an imposter.  
  
When Adam had more or less stopped exercising, he got up and wandered over to the wall where, the night before, he'd carved a large, arched doorway. He'd spent a lot of time on it, carefully carving each stone of the arch, each wooden panel, finally finishing it off with a doorknob. Then he'd carved a single word over the top of it. "Exit."  
  
Adam stood in front of it for a few minutes, staring. Randor wondered what he was thinking. He reached out a hand and touched the doorknob. His fingers lingered on it for a moment, then his fist clenched. His arm swung back and he began punching it repeatedly. After what seemed an eternity to Randor, ten seconds at least, he stopped and collapsed against the wall, leaning on his arms. He turned, still leaning against the wall, and slid down to a sitting position, knees pulled up to his chest, elbows resting on them.  
  
And he stayed there. For hours. And Randor watched him, resisting the impulse to cajole him to action. The scene grew so static that the only motion was Adam's shoulders moving up and down in time with his breathing. When the heavily laden plate appeared, Randor started. Steam rose from a lamb cutlet, corn on the cob and a heaping pile of mashed potatoes. So the weasel had decided they'd been punished enough, had he? Randor waited impatiently for Adam to notice and start eating.  
  
He looked up and glared at the plate. Then he stood up and walked over to the table, but he didn't sit down. He picked up the fork and fiddled with it, then dropped it on the plate. Turning his back on the food, he went to the bed and flopped down on it face first.  
  
Randor stared in shock, his jaw dropping. Adam hadn't eaten in two days, yet, presented with a delectable meal, he ignored it? How depressed did a sixteen-year-old boy have to be to react that way? Randor stood up, furious, and seized the rectangle of rock in one hand. That vile, idiotic, outrageously callous oaf that had the gall to masquerade as his son was going to answer for this.  
  
He strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him, forgetting completely that he was supposed to be sick.  
  
****  
  
Finally, Mekanek was able to shift. He stretched his legs as he retracted his neck. What had Randor been staring at for so long? The king had been so quiet for so long that despite his level of concentration Mekanek had been afraid to move.  
  
He'd never gotten a clear look at the item, but Randor had been speaking to it off and on, very quietly. Mekanek hadn't quite caught all his words, but he thought Randor had spoken Duncan's name at one point. Then he'd sat motionless from just after breakfast to nearly lunch.  
  
Mekanek dropped down out of the tree. He got a couple of odd looks from passersby, but nobody ever paid that much attention to his activities. Realizing abruptly that the building had no exit on this side, he sent his head soaring up over the roof just in time to see Randor entering the residence wing of the palace. Before the door shut, he caught a glimpse of the king starting up some stairs that led to an interior hallway. He'd never catch up now, so instead he went in search of the queen.  
  
****  
  
Randor went straight through Adam's door without stopping, barely pausing to open it. He shut it firmly behind him and walked straight across to where the imposter sat eating lunch. The weasel froze, his fork halfway between the plate and his mouth, a morsel of meat on its tines.  
  
"How can you sit there and eat while my son –"  
  
"I gave him food," the imposter declared defensively.  
  
"I know. The problem is that he's so depressed he doesn't care."  
  
"What?" The man just stared at him, appearing dumfounded. "But – no, he wouldn't just not eat."  
  
"You tell him that!" the king exclaimed, holding out the viewer, image still moving. A sudden thought occurred to him. "You know," he said more slowly. The imposter looked up, brows raised. He really does move like a weasel when he's not pretending to be Adam, Randor thought. "You know how you threatened to cripple Adam if I told anyone?"  
  
The weasel nodded, then said, "That still holds true."  
  
"Fine." Randor smiled at him, which seemed to discomfit the twit. "That's just fine. Here's my little ultimatum to you. You don't give Adam something to do, and I'll cripple you." The fraudulent Adam's eyes widened in shock. "Oh, you'll still get your machine," the king continued, copying the casual tone his opponent had once used. "And I'll still expect my son back."  
  
The imposter finally found his voice. "You wouldn't!"  
  
"Watch me. He'll do you no good as a hostage if he kills himself, you fool."  
  
Though his eyes snapped angrily at the insult, the imposter nodded. "Very well. You gather some things up – things that won't be missed and that I won't be expected to have – and I'll send them to him." Randor glanced around the room, trying to decide, but the weasel wasn't finished. "If you try to slip anything questionable in with the rest, Adam will get to find out how well he likes darkness for awhile. Total, complete darkness."  
  
Randor caught himself as he reached again for the fiend's throat. Clenching the fist, he brought it back down to his side. "That's not a problem." He walked over to the bookcase where Adam's research materials had been placed and pulled out the books and pages of notes. He placed them in a pile on the table. Then he walked back over to the bookcase, and his glance fell on the chest containing Elegius' journals. Adam had been so careful with the irreplaceable books. Once he'd even scolded Teela for not washing her hands thoroughly before handling them. A smile quirked his lips. He picked up the chest and carried over to the pile of books. Add some paper, ink and pens, and it was a good start. He raised an eyebrow at the weasel. "I don't suppose I could convince you to send a bookcase?"  
  
The magician was already eyeing the pile of books with a dubious expression. "I think not." Randor shrugged, then ducked into Adam's bathroom to scoop up some basic toiletries. "How long is this going to take?" the duplicate demanded.  
  
Dropping the toiletries on the table, the king gave his antagonist a speculative look. "Can you give me an hour?" The weasel rolled his eyes and nodded ungraciously. "Oh," Randor said, eye falling on the soap. "You might also consider giving him somewhat freer access to water, both for drinking and washing." Observing the irritation on the villain's face, he hastily added, "I'm giving you what you want. All I'm asking is that you treat my son humanely." The imposter shrugged but voiced no objections. Randor left and made a stop by the library to pick up a couple of novels. Then he went down to the gardener and wheedled a small potted flower from him. In one of the maintenance workshops, he found a few small pots of paint and some brushes. The cook was easily persuaded to part with some of Adam's favorite sweetmeats and cookies. Dorgan wasn't available when Randor stopped by the infirmary, so he went into his office and found the weights that he'd been having Adam use to strengthen his legs. Returning to his study with this odd assortment of items, the king sat down to write his son a note.  
  
He had no way to be sure that the weasel would send it with the other things, but he had to try.  
  
My Dear Adam,  
  
I have finally persuaded this nameless fellow to provide you with a few things to make your captivity more bearable. Please understand that I'm doing everything I can to get you out of there as soon as possible. I hope you won't need half of these things, but I can't count on - well, there might not be another opportunity to send anything to you.  
  
Randor pursed his lips, well aware that the imposter would undoubtedly insist on reading this note if he agreed to send it. There was so much to say. . .  
  
I miss you dreadfully. As your father, I want you here by my side, and I will do anything to achieve that. As King of Eternia, my duty is clear. I need my sole heir returned to me, alive and well.  
  
Remember, as a prince, your life is not your own. Your duty is to survive and return. Eat and exercise, my boy. If you have trouble getting yourself going, just imagine how amused Skeletor would be to see you weak and feeble. Your mother and Cringer would be devastated if you were to become ill again. He's already pining for you. Try to think of this as a chance to recover your strength without the whole world watching you. I am here, working hard to bring you back.  
  
Everyone here is well and I will see to it that it stays that way. Don't worry about us.  
  
Your mother and I love you very much, Adam, always remember that. You're in my thoughts every second of the day.  
  
All my love,  
  
Randor  
  
Biting his lip to keep from speaking, he stood by and affected unconcern while the weasel read the letter. After a time, the fellow looked up, one eyebrow raised sardonically. "Right to the point, as ever. All that talk of duty, though, it seems a bit harsh." Randor kept his expression neutral somehow. "Do you really think there's a danger of suicide?" Adam's father flinched at the sound of that blunt word. He was unwilling, when brought to the point, to admit the possibility so baldly. It was one thing to talk hypothetically about it, but he just couldn't bring himself to . . . to talk directly about it. The imposter shrugged. "Well, I suppose it's in my best interests to keep the little wimp contented." Randor clamped his teeth firmly together to keep from giving him specific reasons, like broken bones, why it was in his best interests. The weasel placed the letter on top of the stack. The king waited, but the fellow turned angrily on him. "It will take some time to prepare this. You might as well go back to your study and watch him."  
  
Gritting his teeth, he turned to leave, but the imposter caught his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. The weasel said something in a low voice that Randor couldn't quite catch, and suddenly his arm felt like it was on fire. Randor hissed at the searing pain. In his surprise, he looked into the pools of blue ice that were the imposter's eyes, something he had avoided doing as often as possible. The wrong mind looking at him out of his son's face made him shudder.  
  
"Don't threaten me again!" the imposter growled. Then he let go and Randor stared in horror at the hand-shaped burn on his arm. "Now get out." Randor backed toward the door, then turned to leave. "Wait!" The voice was commanding. Randor hoped that the guard outside couldn't hear them speaking. "I'll expect a progress report on my machine tomorrow morning."  
  
Randor didn't speak, he just clutched his left arm with his right hand to hide the shape of the injury and left the room, avoiding the curious eyes of the guard.  
  
He walked into the infirmary, left arm at his side. He'd gotten too many curious looks gripping his forearm, so he'd caught hold of the cape in his left hand to shield the injury from view. Dorgan had returned from whatever errand he had been on, so he caught the healer's eye and went straight into one of the exam rooms, shutting the door behind him. Dorgan came in a second or so later. "Has he fed him yet?" he asked as soon as the door was closed. So much had happened since that morning that Randor blinked stupidly at him for a moment. "Well, Randor? Did he feed Adam?"  
  
"Yes, but –" Randor broke off abruptly. He hadn't looked in on Adam for the past hour. Who knew what could be happening now? He reached into his right hand pocket for the viewing stone. "Activate," he said. Dorgan leaned over to look and brushed against the burn on Randor's arm. His grip on the stone tightened and he let out an involuntary gasp of pain.  
  
Dorgan drew back and said, "What's wrong?" Before Randor could move or speak, he flipped the cape out of the way and lifted the king's left arm into view. Randor closed his eyes to avoid seeing the mark on his skin that was in the shape of his son's hand. "That slimy, no-good, scheming, vile, wretched –" Dorgan mouthed silently for a moment, apparently out of sufficiently derogatory adjectives. "Did this just happen?" Randor nodded. "I'm going to kill him," he muttered, reaching for a salve. As he treated the wound, cursing the imposter all the while, Randor peered into the image.  
  
Adam had returned to his stretching exercises, his father was pleased to see. Nothing else in the room had changed. The food sat on the table, untouched. "Why isn't he eating?" Randor demanded of no one in particular.  
  
"What?" Dorgan leaned away from where he was wrapping a bandage around Randor's arm to peer into the viewer. "How long has that food been there?"  
  
"About an hour and half, I'd guess. He had a bad morning, sat motionless for hours. When the food arrived, he just looked at it then flopped down on the bed." Dorgan made tsk, tsk noises. "I got – well, I got angry and I went to see the rotten weasel. Told him he had to give Adam something to do. He finally agreed, so I got some things together for the boy."  
  
"Have you already sent them? I don't see anything. You've got to send his weights."  
  
"I already did."  
  
"What? Where did you get them?"  
  
"I took them out of your office." At Dorgan's outraged glare, he started sputtering. "I only had an hour, Dorgan, and you weren't here."  
  
"So why did he burn you?" Dorgan asked.  
  
"To make a point." Dorgan started muttering again and returned to bandaging the burn. Randor kept watching Adam. The boy stopped exercising abruptly, looking across the room at something his father couldn't immediately see. Though he'd known something was going to happen, Randor found himself dry- mouthed with worry. What was going to happen? A circle of light had appeared in mid air about two feet away from the table. It grew and stretched into an oval through which Adam's double stepped, levitating a wooden chest with the pot of marigolds atop it. Randor hadn't thought that the villain was actually going to have to go there himself.  
  
Adam slowly straightened up to his full height, staring warily at the intruder. It was clear that he'd seen him before, there was no surprise in his look. They started speaking and Randor wished wildly for sound.  
  
****  
  
Adam was on his back, doing windmills with his legs when he saw a bright light shine suddenly in the middle of the room. He froze for a second, then rolled over onto his knees to watch as the glow formed a circle and then a lengthening oval. This looked distinctly familiar, and Adam got to his feet in preparation for the visit he was anticipating.  
  
His double, wearing his clothes, stepped through into the room. Adam balled his hands into fists, but he stayed where he was, glaring at the man. Behind him a trunk floated through the portal, with a flower on top.  
  
"Good afternoon, your highness," he said, his voice dripping with irony. "I thought I might pay you a visit." The trunk floated over against a wall and settled down.  
  
"So glad to see you," Adam said dryly. "I suppose it could be worse, you could be Skeletor."  
  
The imposter's eyes narrowed. "Skeletor doesn't have the brains to pull off something like this."  
  
Adam shrugged. "Yeah, and you've even got skin!" My skin, Adam thought angrily. Then he noticed that the portal was still there behind the imposter. He took a couple of steps forward, toward the table where one of the pottery shards sat on the near corner. If he could feint at the double and get him to move to one side or the other, maybe he could get through it, back to – well, out of here anyway.  
  
"I brought you some time wasters, to keep you from going nuts." He looked around at Adam's carvings on the walls. "Though it looks like you've found some activities for yourself." Adam shrugged. "Why didn't you eat your lunch?"  
  
"What's it to you? After two days of empty plates, I sincerely doubt you care about my health." He laughed. "So what did Dad do to annoy you? Did he ground you? Send you to your room without supper?"  
  
****  
  
Dorgan snorted. Randor looked up at him, startled, then looked back at the image in the stone. They were both watching intently. "That boy of yours is saucy Randor," Dorgan said suddenly, sounding amused. "Of course, maybe he shouldn't be doing that, he shouldn't be antagonizing him."  
  
Randor was looking so hard at the images before him that he thought his eyes might pop out of his head. "Antagonize him? Is he antagonizing him? What's he saying? How can you tell what he's saying?"  
  
"I can read lips. Now hush!"  
  
****  
  
"I'm glad you find it so amusing, boy." Adam was level with the table now. He stopped moving forward and put his hands on his hips. "I asked you a question, and I expect an answer." The imposter glanced away, toward the plate, and Adam decided his time was now. He seized the shard and launched himself toward his double.  
  
Instead of dodging him, the magician's hand flew up and he cried out. A blast of force caught Adam in the face and chest, flinging him backwards. The pottery flew out of his hand, and he heard it shatter further along the wall just as he hit. He slid down the wall, unable to break his fall with his legs in any way. For a few moments he lay there dazed.  
  
****  
  
"No, Adam!" Randor cried as he watched his son grab the makeshift weapon and throw himself at his tormentor.  
  
"Randor, quiet!" Dorgan hissed. "There are people out in the main room. They'll hear you." Randor drew in his breath and held it as the events unfolded. Dorgan growled as they watched Adam slide limply to the floor. "If he's hurt him I'll – I'll –"  
  
"Hush!" Randor said, leaning forward, trying to get a clearer view.  
  
****  
  
Adam shook his head, trying to clear it. He pushed himself into a sitting position and covered his face with his hands. After a moment, he dragged himself to his feet, not wanting to be uneven with his enemy, but he had to lean against the wall to stay upright. His double stood back, watching him, a malevolent glint in his eye. Mastering himself, Adam shoved away from the wall and took a step towards the imposter.  
  
They were face to face, but Adam's legs were trembling so badly, he knew there was nothing he could do but glare.  
  
The imposter lifted his hand, and Adam glanced over at it to see what he was doing. "Have you forgotten what I can do, boy?" the double asked softly. The image of the chair sparking away into ashes flashed in his mind's eye, and Adam stiffened, moving instinctively backward. Panic suffused him, but the wall was too close behind him, and his legs wouldn't obey.  
  
The imposter latched onto his arm as he flailed, trying get away. Adam yanked back, but he couldn't free himself. Slowly, deliberately, the imposter pushed his sleeve up so that his hand was on Adam's bare forearm. The doppelganger murmured a word and Adam felt heat emanating from his hand. He tried to wrench free, but his opponent's grip held firm. Adam's legs gave way suddenly, and he landed hard on his knees, still trying desperately to break away.  
  
The heat built and Adam suddenly heard himself screaming.  
  
****  
  
Randor stared in horror as Adam cringed back from the imposter's hand. What had that bastard done to him before that he was reacting like this? Dorgan was speaking, but Randor couldn't hear him. He sounded like he was miles away down a tunnel. The weaselly little monster grabbed Adam's arm and Adam seemed to panic, thrashing back and forth, trying to get away.  
  
He fell. Randor was a mass of tension, unable to look away. His son was being tortured before his eyes. When Adam's mouth opened in what had to be a scream, a cry was wrenched from his throat, too. He felt a sudden rushing in his head, then nothing more. 


	6. The Circle Broadens

Chapter 6

Adam slowly pulled himself back into a sitting position, cradling his left arm in his lap. The imposter stood over him, beaming down self-righteously. "Nobody crosses me and gets away with it. Not Skeletor, and certainly not a wimpy little prince like you." Adam didn't respond. He had plenty to say, but saw no point in saying it. _If you don't like Skeletor, then why are you attacking us? You do know that hurting me and my father will make old bone face happy, don't you? _But he didn't feel like pointing out to this brute that they had anything in common.

"Now, you had better start eating your meals," the imposter said, clearly starting on a long lecture. 

Adam glowered at him. "Do I have to clean my plate, too?" he asked before thinking whether or not it was sensible. 

It looked like the imposter was grinding his teeth. Adam found that he liked to watch that. "Do you want me to kill your mother?" The prince felt all the anger drain out him to be replaced by horror. "I got the impression you were fond of her. She certainly seems fond enough of you, though I can't imagine why." 

"Don't you touch her!" Adam grated through his teeth. "I won't do it again."

"You won't get the chance to do _that _again, I assure you."

"Don't you even go near her!"

"I can't keep her away from me. Do you know, she asked me if your father was acting oddly toward me yesterday. I must have a talk with the old man. He seems to be arousing suspicion." A thoughtful look came into his eyes. "Though if everyone is suspicious of him, they won't be looking at me." Adam growled wordlessly. "You seem to be a tiresomely popular boy. In fact, I'd better get back before one of your obnoxious friends comes looking for me."

Adam wanted him gone. But he didn't want him back at the palace. He closed his eyes and thumped his head back against the wall. Was this worse than Skeletor? He couldn't decide. Skeletor definitely planned to kill him, but this guy said he was going to let him go at the end. Skeletor had never gone and lived in his life, though, doing lord only knew what that Adam was going to have to try to explain later.

He opened his eyes in time to see the portal vanish. Life sucked

-------

"Dorgan, how did he get that burn?" 

"That's his business, Duncan." Randor felt a blanket being drawn up over him. "It's not related to his passing out if that's what you were thinking."

"Is that better?" Duncan demanded incredulously. Randor wondered what they were talking about. His arm ached, his head ached, and he knew there was something far worse wrong, but he couldn't think what it was. 

"I'm not sure what you're asking, Duncan." He sighed. "I've done what I can here. I'd better go look in on some of my other patients."

"I'll stay here," Duncan announced. _He's certainly in a priggish mood today,_ Randor thought. _What's put a bee in his bonnet? _

"Suit yourself." Footsteps moved away, and a door opened then closed. Randor heard the sound of Duncan settling himself in a chair by the bed. _Am I sick? That doesn't seem right, somehow. My arm . . . what had happened to . . . _

He sat up. "Adam!" he cried.

"Randor, it's all right," Duncan exclaimed, standing up and trying to push him back down. "You passed out here in the infirmary, and –"

"It's not all right!" Randor said, shoving Duncan's hands away and feeling in his pockets. "Where is it?" He started to swing himself off the bed, but Duncan pushed him back.

"You'd better stay in bed. I don't know what's –"

"Dorgan!!" he yelled. "Get Dorgan now!"

"Randor, what is it?" When the king didn't answer, Duncan shook his head impatiently. "Stay on the bed and I'll get Dorgan." Randor nodded. Dizziness had swept over him as he'd tried to stand, so he was willing for Duncan to be his legs. The door opened as his man-at-arms reached it. 

"Dorgan!" Randor exclaimed. "What happened?"

"It's all right, sire. Things are – they're all right."

Randor sat back, breathing heavily. "You're certain?" Dorgan nodded. Both the healer and the king started when the door shut with a bang. 

"All right. What in the name of the elders is going on here?" Duncan demanded. Randor stared at him, not sure what to say, where to start, whether to start, or even which way was up. Dorgan just looked shocked that anyone was being so authoritarian towards him in his own realm. 

Duncan planted himself solidly across the doorway and began enumerating points on his fingers. "This is what I've got so far. Orko's depressed. Adam's acting like a jerk when he's not hiding in his room. Cringer wants to eat him. Marlena's worried. Mekanek is spying on you and reporting to her. Ram-Man thinks Adam doesn't like him anymore. You've got the rest of the masters, apart from Teela, searching the far corners of the globe for materials to build a digging machine for god only knows what purpose. Teela is fuming because Adam dismissed her from his presence not once but twice, and that's just today. You haven't eaten anything that anybody's seen in two days. You ran around like a madman at midday today collecting things from paintbrushes to potted plants. You apparently were injured in your son's room during a private meeting when you delivered the above items to him. Adam's legs seem to have magically healed practically overnight." He took a breath. "You're lying to me, you're lying to Marlena, and Dorgan is apparently in on it, aiding and abetting you in this chaotic spree." Dorgan and Randor exchanged a glance, stunned. "And there hasn't been a peep out of Snake Mountain in days. They're being alarmingly quiet. Have I missed anything?"

Randor took several deep breaths. "Quite a bit actually," he said. Duncan crossed his arms and leaned back against the door in an expectant pose.

"So this is why he's your second in command," Dorgan said in an awed voice. 

A silence fell over the room. It lengthened uncomfortably. Finally Duncan said, "Randor, you look awful. You do see that you have to tell me what's going on?"

Randor buried his face in his hands. The room was spinning. "I think I'm going to pass out," he muttered. Dorgan got him to lie back down and, opening a nearby cold store, pulled out a pitcher of the green, viscous liquid called glop. "Oh no," Randor muttered. "Not glop."

"I told you to eat."

"I just couldn't." The healer held a glass ready, but Randor shook his head. "No, not until I see him. Where is it?" Dorgan glanced at Duncan, shrugged, and pulled the viewer from the pocket of his smock. 

"I didn't know how to turn it off."

Randor snatched it from his hand and took a look. Adam had taken off the shirt of his pajamas and ripped it into pieces to bandage his burn. He was sitting at the table now, finishing off a bowl of soup with a piece of bread. The lunch plate was gone and had been replaced with a hearty-looking casserole. The glass of water was there as well, but to it had been added pitcher. As he watched, Adam shoved the soup bowl aside and started in on the casserole. "Oh good, he's eating." Utterly undone between the stress, the pain and the total relief of seeing Adam alive and calm – _he's eating, thank the Elders_ – Randor closed his eyes and let his hand fall to his side. The viewer slipped out of his fingers and fell onto the coverlet. He felt someone pick it up and opened his eyes briefly to see Duncan gazing into it. He groaned and threw one arm up over his eyes.

"Does somebody want to tell me what I'm looking at?" Duncan said in that deceptively calm tone he used when he was resisting the impulse to run screaming in circles. Randor was very familiar with that tone. He ignored him. "I left Adam eating dinner in the great hall not an hour ago," Duncan added.

A low rumbling emerged from Dorgan. "That rotten, sadistic, cruel, callous, deceitful, fiendish, brutal, heartless, vicious, twisted –" Dorgan didn't seem to be having nearly the trouble with adjectives he'd had earlier.

Duncan cut him off. "I think I get the idea. So just who is it I left eating dinner in the great hall?"

"I don't know his name," Randor said. "I've been calling him 'weasel' in my head."

"Could somebody start at the beginning? Please?" Duncan sat down in the chair beside the bed. "Before I start running in circles, screaming."

Randor couldn't help it, he laughed. "We can't have that. Think what it would do for morale."

"Well," Dorgan said suddenly. "I don't know about you two but I'm rather reassured by all of this." Duncan looked at him like he was insane. Randor couldn't muster a good glare, so he tried for bewildered. The healer seemed a bit taken aback. "Well, it's good to know that if Randor ever went utterly, barkingly mad, people would notice."

Randor closed his eyes and shook his head. "Thank you, Dorgan. Leave it to you to come up with a silver lining in this mess."

"Randor," Duncan said. "I'm going to go utterly, barkingly mad if you don't start explaining."

The king sighed. "Three days ago, the day Cringer attacked Adam, I got a visit from the weasel informing me that he had Adam and that if I didn't build him this digging device, he'd kill him. And that if I told anyone that he was not really Adam, he'd cripple him in a way that neither I nor he would ever forget."

Duncan blinked. "I see. Well that explains the lying and sending people all over, and Adam being a jerk. Why did you stop eating?"

Randor bit his lip. "I sort of lost my temper at the weasel when he suggested putting Cringer down to keep 'us' safe." Duncan's breath chuffed out, and he looked appalled. "I pinned him to the wall of my study by the neck." Dorgan whistled. "So he decided that Adam would go without food for awhile." 

"So you stopped eating too?"

"I had that thing," Randor said, pointing at the stone. "He sent him plates at regular mealtimes. Empty plates. The first one had a note that told Adam that I'd angered him and that's why there was no food." Randor shoved himself up to a sitting position, leaning against the wall. "He didn't feed him for two days straight, Duncan. I couldn't watch him receiving empty plates and eat myself."

"I think I can understand that," Duncan said.

"Well, I can't," Dorgan snapped. "Drink your glop."

They were forced to pause while Randor swallowed some of the horrid stuff. It by itself was a reason not to get sick.

"Tell him what happened today," Dorgan said as he finished up the glass. 

"Yes, what did happen today?" Duncan asked. 

"Adam got depressed. He's been exercising a lot, and you can see what he's done to the walls." Duncan nodded. "This morning he sort of ground to a halt and spent about three hours just sitting on the floor staring at nothing. That was after he punched the wall repeatedly. Then lunch was delivered and there was actual food. Real, appetizing food. And he just looked at it. He didn't eat it, he didn't even taste it."

"Ouch," Duncan said.

"I got upset again. You see, if you look in there and see that chest with the marigolds." Duncan nodded, "that wasn't there before today. It was just the bare walls and the furniture. And Adam. He was going out of his mind with boredom. I asked the twit to give him something to do, and he said he'd think about it." Randor shook his head, trying to dispel the anger that was welling up again. "So today I went and I gave him an ultimatum. When he said he'd cripple Adam, he finished it off by saying he'd still expect the digger, right?" 

"Right."

"So I told him today that if he didn't give Adam something to do, I'd cripple him. But he'd still get that stupid machine. He didn't like it, but he agreed."

"Hence the running around and fetching things."

"And then he reminded me that he's not nearly as weak and powerless as he seems. He grabbed my arm, and – and –"

"And the burn on Randor's arm is shaped like a hand," Dorgan finished for him.

Randor gritted his teeth. "Like Adam's hand," he growled. Duncan and Dorgan exchanged a worried look. 

"How bad is it?" Duncan asked.

"It's a fairly serious second degree burn," Dorgan said. "Speaking of which I need to get you some antibiotics."

"Why? It's not infected, I came straight here."

"It will be. They always are." 

"But, then Adam!" Randor exclaimed, leaning toward the healer urgently. "How bad was his? Could you tell?" The king stared into Dorgan's eyes desperately, willing him to answer.

After a moment's consideration, he said, "It wasn't any worse than yours, for sure."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Duncan said looking back and forth between them. "You're not saying that he went and did it to Adam, too?"

"Yes, that's what we're saying," Randor said. 

"And then went to the great hall and ate dinner?" Duncan asked incredulously.

"Evidently."

"Was he punishing you? What about that chest? I don't understand."

"He must have packed all the things I sent for Adam into that chest. He took it there and then started talking to Adam. I couldn't really tell what they were saying."

"It was just a juvenile slanging match really," Dorgan said. "Up until Adam attacked him, that is." 

"Good for Adam," Duncan said, nodding decisively.

Randor opened his mouth, then closed it, miserable. "He grabbed a broken piece of pottery and launched himself at him." 

"Shows resourcefulness."

"And the weasel sent a blast of energy at him that knocked him into a wall."

"Is that what burned him?"

Randor shook his head. "No. Adam got himself back onto his feet, facing off with him. You could see that Adam was barely holding it together. What did he say, Dorgan? He held up his hand and said something that seriously alarmed Adam."

Dorgan swallowed, looking uncomfortable. "He said, 'Have you forgotten what I can do?'"

Randor felt the blood drain from his face. "So has he done it before? Is Adam burned somewhere else? Oh Elders, I don't think I – I –" He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. His dizziness was coming back. 

"Well, I know who we can ask," Dorgan commented wryly.

"Yes, and I think I know how we can convince him to tell us where Adam is," Duncan put in.

"Absolutely not," Randor said flatly. He didn't have the energy for firm. "It's a digging machine. It's not worth Adam's life. Once we've got Adam back, I'll declare open season on weasels, but until that time, he can't be harmed."

"Right," Duncan said, grimacing.

"He can't even know that either of you know. I don't doubt he'd cheerfully go back and – and –" Randor thrust all the images that came to mind out of his head. "And cripple him. Oh, and he expects a progress report tomorrow morning."

"On the device?" Duncan shrugged. "I'm at something of a standstill until Man-E can get back with the dendromine. That'll take another day at least. Sy-Klone and Buzz Off have split up looking for the elpinar, and neither of them has had any luck so far."

"I don't suppose it looks finished," Randor asked.

Duncan shook his head. "The dendromine is needed partly to finish off the leads. There are wires hanging off it everywhere."

Randor sighed. "Well, get Man-E back as quickly as you can."

"When Stratos returns, I plan to send him after the elpinar but –"

There was an urgent knocking at the door. "See who it is, Duncan." Man-at-Arms nodded and went to the door. Dorgan unlocked a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of pills. While he was dosing Randor, Duncan opened the door a crack to see who was knocking.

"I must see the king, Man-at-Arms." Stratos sounded deeply concerned about something. Randor's heart sank. What new crisis could possibly have developed?

"I'm sorry, Stratos, but Randor is not well, maybe lat –"

"No, Duncan, let him in. It would be better to know now." _Now, while I'm still kind of numb. _He sat up, clearing his throat and trying to seem himself. "Come in, good Stratos. What troubles you?"

The Lord of Avion walked into the exam room, eyes going immediately to the king. "Your highness, I'd heard you were unwell, but not how badly."

Randor shook his head. "It's nothing," he said firmly. "Mostly due to my own foolishness."

Duncan opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. Stratos appeared unconvinced, but his own news seemed too great to hold in. "I see." He paused, pursing his lips. "Your highness, has some new threat to the prince developed? If so, why was I not called back from Avion?"

All three of them stared at Stratos in bafflement. "What do you mean?" Randor asked, finally. 

"But, surely –" Stratos seemed taken aback. "But, why else would you have had a duplicate take Adam's place?"

Eyes wide with astonishment, Duncan and Dorgan both turned to Randor to see what he had to say. As Randor opened his mouth to speak, he felt the blood rushing to his head again and his vision went dark around the edges. "Oh blast," he muttered as he felt himself lose consciousness.


	7. A Taste of Reality

Chapter 7

It could only have been a few moments later when he came to, for they were all talking at once, across one another's words, no one listening to anyone. 

"It's just shock," Dorgan was saying insistently. "It's the legacy of not eating and all the stress on top of his injury."

"You're not being straight with me about that burn," Duncan declared. "How bad is it really?"

"What injury?" Stratos asked, alarm coloring his voice. "Burn? What has been happening here?" Randor realized that he wasn't lying on the bed properly any longer. Apparently his torso had slid sideways when he passed out. Stratos cradled his upper body while Dorgan and Duncan were trying to get his legs straightened out and shift him further down the bed. He still had no real control over his limbs, so he lay limply, letting them arrange him. "Does he have any other injuries besides that arm?" Stratos asked in worried tones. "I don't want to hurt him."

"Not unless he's been keeping things from me," Dorgan said.

"And that would be unusual behavior for Randor," Duncan said bitingly. "Didn't you even check?"

"I'm fine," Randor said, trying to make himself heard over the ruckus. They all ignored him, even 

Stratos. 

"We'll just have to be very gentle with him, then," the Avion said.

"Gentle?" Duncan said in an ironic tone. "He's not being very gentle with himself! What was he thinking?" Randor noticed, however, that their hands did move more softly against his flesh. 

"I'll get him checked over thoroughly once we've got him lying down," Dorgan said. "Stoicism is well and good in a king, but it can be carried too far."

"He was like this before he was king," Duncan growled.

"Will someone please tell me what is going on?" Stratos asked, his cultured tones more demanding than usual. 

"Duncan? Where is the viewer?" Randor asked. His voice sounded weak even to him. Stratos, in the process of guiding his head and shoulders back against a pillow, looked at him oddly.

"Viewer?" the Avion asked, obviously puzzled.

"I've got it right here, Randor," Duncan said soothingly. He held the small piece of stone up and peered into it. Randor glared at him when he didn't immediately give it back. "Just lie calmly, Adam is fine."

"I want to see him myself, Duncan. Give it to me." He shoved himself up to a half-sitting position and put out a peremptory hand. When it was clear that he wasn't going to simply lie back, Stratos leaned down to support him.

"He's sleeping." Duncan looked him in the eye. "He's finished the meal and he's sleeping." Randor didn't relax his demanding reach.

"Give it to him, Duncan," Dorgan sighed. "He won't rest unless you do." Reluctantly, his Man-at-Arms handed it to him. 

"Is this what you spent all morning staring at?" Duncan asked uneasily as Randor fumbled it around so that he could look in. "That can't be healthy."

"In his position, could you stop?" Dorgan asked.

"By the Elders, that's Adam!" Stratos exclaimed, peering over Randor's shoulder at the image the viewer presented. "Where is he?"

"If I knew that, we'd have a lot fewer problems," Randor said wearily. The others nodded agreement. 

"I don't understand, what has happened?"

Randor stared at Adam, who was, in fact, sleeping. His injured arm was draped across his chest, and he looked absolutely worn out, but the plates on the table were empty. As he watched, they vanished. Randor set his teeth. That meant the imposter was watching as well. He did note that the pitcher of water and the glass both remained. He continued watching Adam while the others brought Stratos up to date, interrupting for occasional corrections. When they were done, the Avion sat back, stunned.

"So you're building this machine he wants," he said slowly. Duncan nodded. "What can I do to help?"

"Well, I still need the elpinar –"

"No," Randor said suddenly, a thought occurring to him. They all turned to stare at him in surprise. "No, there's something else we need."

"What?"

"We need to know why he's doing this. What is it that he wants?" Randor looked around. "Get me some pillows to shove behind my back. I can't talk to you lying flat like this." They found him what he wanted and gathered around to hear what he had to say. Randor pursed his lips. "He wants to excavate under Arleron village, but I don't know what it is he's looking for exactly."

"We need to find out," Stratos said thoughtfully. "If we knew, we might have a better notion of how to defeat this heinous villain." 

Randor beamed at him. "My thoughts, exactly, Stratos. And I have to know what it is I'm helping him accomplish."

"Yes," Duncan nodded sharply. "I can't imagine that all he wants is a digging machine, Randor."

"You think I don't know that, Duncan?" Randor exclaimed. "I didn't know what to do! He speaks one word and his hand turns into a branding iron. We have no idea what he's capable of and no way of guessing just where he's keeping Adam. The only clue we have is the wood of the structure, and unless I'm mistaken it's one of the commonest woods on Eternia."

"He's clearly been planning this for some time," Duncan said musingly. "Whatever he wants must be incredible to make it all worth while." Randor's eyes shot to Duncan's face, and when he saw the gravity of his expression, he shivered. Duncan's thoughts were racing toward a conclusion that Randor had been unconsciously avoiding. He didn't speak them aloud however.

"Randor," Dorgan said slowly. "I know we touched on this before, but have you truly considered that you may not be able to go through with this?" It was clear from the look in Dorgan's eyes that he was as devastated by the thought as Randor was. Duncan looked shattered to the core by the very idea. But Stratos shook his head resolutely.

"No, that's not an option," the Avion said categorically. Randor was perplexed by his certainty.

"But Stratos, surely -" he started, but broke off when Stratos shook his head again.

"Adam is the only heir to the throne." Duncan opened his mouth, and Randor knew he was thinking of the fact that he had been appointed Adam's heir until such time as Adam had children. "Ordinarily, kings have families, brothers or sisters, who are collateral heirs, other claimants to the throne. But you are the first of your line." Stratos looked around at all their stunned faces. "The reason you are king, Randor, is that you were appointed by the Elders themselves. As your son, Adam is the only one who can follow you on the throne. Were you both to die before Adam has a child, it would send the country into chaos."

"He could appoint an heir, Stratos," Dorgan said. "I'm not saying I like the idea, but there are things that Randor simply couldn't do, even to save Adam's life."

Stratos took a deep breath and put a hand on Dorgan's shoulder. "Even were he to appoint an alternate heir, it would make no difference. Randor can rally the disparate races of Eternia because he was appointed by the Elders. He was chosen for a reason. I couldn't do it, Duncan couldn't do it." Duncan nodded, Dorgan looked thoughtful, and Randor didn't know how to react to Stratos' evaluation. "But for Adam, it will come as naturally as breathing." Randor sat straighter, startled by this assertion. Adam was a boy, very young and not always entirely reliable. Stratos noted his reaction and smiled reassuringly. "You're too close to him to see him clearly, Randor." He cast a glance at Duncan. "You as well, Man-at-Arms. And Healer Dorgan looks at people with a very different perspective." Stratos shrugged. "Adolescence is a tough time for any young man, and for a boy with Adam's responsibilities doubly so, but surely you all see that Adam has the gift of leadership. He combines the best of you and Marlena, Randor. He will be a great man one day."

Dorgan pursed his lips. "Stratos, I know you care for the boy a great deal, so do we all, but –"

Stratos held up a hand and the healer subsided. "No, Dorgan, you don't understand. Of course I care about Adam. But what I foresee if Adam dies without issue is a wrenching civil war where the only winner is Skeletor, who would see his opportunity and take advantage immediately." Randor stared in shock at his friend. "Adam will unite all the factions and avoid such a conflict." 

"What about He-Man?" Dorgan suggested. Duncan gasped, and his jaw dropped open then shut again with a snap. 

"Dorgan," Randor exclaimed, pushed past his endurance. "Don't you want us to rescue Adam?"

"Of course I do! I just – oh, blast! You're right, I'm arguing against my own wishes."

"Besides," said Stratos. "Though He-Man is a great warrior, such men do not always make great kings. Randor is an exception –"

"Wait a minute!" Dorgan exclaimed. They all turned to him in startlement. "The queen! I almost forgot!"

"What about the queen?" Randor demanded, his entire body tensing up.

Dorgan gave him a worried look. "While you were unconscious, the imposter kept talking to Adam. He's holding the queen's safety over Adam's head, apparently, to keep him from trying to escape."

Randor flung the blanket aside and swung his legs off the bed. "Adam attacked him. Where's Marlena?" As he stood up dizziness swept through him and his balance fled. He fell heavily to his knees, and was only saved from landing face first on the carpet by Duncan's quick intervention. Stratos aborted a move to do the same. Randor threw a desperate look at the Avion. "Go find Marlena!"

Stratos turned to go, but the door opened in front of him, and Marlena walked in, eyes blazing. "I'm glad to know someone thought to send for me."

Relief caused Randor's muscles to go limp and he leaned on Duncan for support. But then he'd always leaned on Duncan for support. "Marlena, you're all right!" 

Stratos shut the door behind the queen, who ran forward and knelt in front of Randor. "What's happened to him?" she demanded, turning back to Dorgan. "And why didn't you send for me at once?" 

"I told him not to, Marlena. It's not his fault."

"What is going on, Randor?" She glanced around the room. "And how many of your friends did you tell before sharing it with me?"

Randor blinked wearily at her. "Marlena, I – please don't be angry with me." 

She put a hand on his cheek. "Randor, darling, please tell me what's wrong. You can't do everything alone." Randor closed his eyes and felt himself drift for a moment. Marlena's voice drew him back to himself. "What's wrong with him?" she exclaimed.

"He's worn out," Dorgan said. "And no wonder. Get him back up on the bed."

"I'm fine," Randor protested. "We must make plans."

"In the morning, Randor," Marlena said, sitting back as the others lifted him. Despite valiant efforts, Randor couldn't keep his eyes open. As he fell into a deep sleep, he heard Marlena still speaking. "As for you three, I eagerly await your explanations."

----------

Mekanek sat on a bench in the courtyard gazing at the night sky. His mission was temporarily in abeyance with the king in the infirmary, so he'd sought a peaceful moment alone. 

He heard a footstep on the balcony above him, and he extended his neck curiously to see who it was. Adam had walked out to lean on the edge, and was staring pensively at the stars. 

Rapid footsteps followed him, and Mekanek saw Teela run up behind the prince. "Adam, your father's sick! They say he's collapsed!"

Adam turned to look at her as she came to a stop beside him. "Really?" he said slowly. "Hmm. . . ." Then he looked back up at the stars.

"Adam! Didn't you hear me?"

"Yeah. So?"

"He's in the infirmary." She paused, clearly waiting for something. "Aren't you going to go see him?"

"If he collapsed, he won't want to see me," Adam said. "I'm sure the healers will fix him right up."

Teela gaped.

"Well, even if he doesn't need you, your mother will. You need to go to her." Adam ignored her completely. "Don't you care?" Adam shrugged. "Adam, you can't just stand here with your father lying sick in –"

"You know," Adam said, turning around and leaning against the edge of the balcony. "You're awfully bossy for a commoner."

Teela's eyes narrowed. "What did you call me?"

"A commoner. You are one, after all, Captain of the Guard or no."

"What's come over you, Adam? You're turning into a real jerk."

Adam gave her a frosty look. "Thank you, Captain, for the information. That will be all." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. Teela's mouth opened and closed several times as she stood glaring speechlessly at the prince. Then she bowed deeply and stomped away.

Adam watched her leave with an odd look on his face. "Maybe I should do the prince a big favor before I go and eliminate that red-headed hussy."

Mekanek's jaw dropped in utter astonishment as comprehension dawned in his mind. Then he took off at a dead run for the infirmary. 

He slowed when he came to more populated areas, not wanting to spread alarm. Running footsteps came up behind him and he turned to see Adam – or whoever he was – coming up behind him. "Mekanek, can I talk to you?" he asked, looking worried.

Mekanek didn't know what to do. The imposter caught his arm and pulled him into a small side room. "What do you want?" Mekanek asked, his voice harsh.

The imposter gave him a vicious smile that made Mekanek's stomach roll. "I know you overheard me talking to myself." He shrugged. "Careless of me, but it can't be helped."

"Then you know you can't possibly get away with this. I'll –"

"Do nothing." Lifting a hand he said something Mekanek couldn't quite hear. His hand began to glow with a red heat that Mekanek could feel on his face. Then the heat died away, and the imposter reached forward and patted Mekanek's cheek with that hand. It was quite cool, but he flinched away nevertheless. "You wouldn't want Prince Adam to return with an interesting burn on his face, now, would you? You will tell no one." Mekanek stared at the imposter in open-mouthed horror, but the man wrinkled his brows. "No, you're going to run bleating the moment I'm out of sight aren't you?"

Mekanek started to speak, to deny this, but the imposter muttered something else and touched his forehead. A strange feeling came over him and he felt himself fall to the ground. 


	8. An Unexpected Visitor

**Chapter 8 An Unexpected Visitor**

Randor awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs and pancakes. The food was on a tray on the beside table. Marlena sat reading beside the bed, but she looked up as he shifted. "Did they tell you everything?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Randor, or nearly everything. I had one question that they couldn't answer."

He closed his eyes. "I'm almost afraid to ask what."

"Why did you try to keep this from me, Randor?" The hurt in her voice, made Randor cringe. He gave her an apologetic look. Her expression was stern. "Leaving aside the fact that you allowed me to interact for three days with someone who was not my son, how could you fail to tell me that Adam was in such danger?"

Randor looked down at his hands, unable to bear the steady gaze his wife was giving him. "He threatened Adam, Marlena. I couldn't take a chance of him crippling our son."

"You should have trusted me to keep the secret, my dear."

Randor sighed. "I know." She nodded, and took his hand. His mouth tasted vile. "Did they feed me glop during the night?"

"Twice."

"Twice?"

"You've lost weight, Randor. Now if you want to avoid any further doses of glop, you'd best eat your breakfast like a good boy."

"Where's the viewer? I must get a look at Adam." Wordlessly, Marlena picked up the little object from the surface of her book and handed to him. Adam was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking bleary-eyed. Randor sympathized.

"He just woke up."

"I can see that." Adam rubbed his eyes, and looked down at his left arm. Seeing that bandage made Randor faintly nauseated. His son got up and walked over to the table where a breakfast plate much like Randor's sat. He grabbed a piece of bacon and stuffed it in his mouth, then sat down and started unwrapping the makeshift bandage. "Marlena, get Dorgan. Adam's tending that burn."

Marlena got up and opened the door to call out for the healer. Moments later, Dorgan stood with them, gazing at the image in the viewing stone. After unwrapping the bandage, Adam looked at his arm consideringly. Randor looked up at Dorgan to get his verdict. "From what I can see," Dorgan said, "it doesn't look nearly as bad as yours, Randor."

"What about the antibiotics?" the king asked urgently.

The healer shrugged. "It's hard to say. He'll need them if it gets infected."

As always, Marlena struck right to the heart of the matter. "Would you give them to him if he were here, Dorgan?"

The healer twisted his lips, sighed, and nodded. "Just to be on the safe side. That's not to say he would necessarily need them, but yes, I would give them to him."

Marlena nodded thoughtfully. "So we need to work out a way to convince the imposter to give them to him."

"I'll just have to ask nicely, I guess," Randor said. Marlena's lips tightened, but she made no comment. "Where are Man-at-Arms and Stratos?"

"I'll send for them when you've finished your breakfast," Marlena said. "Dorgan, do you need to treat his arm now, or can it wait until after breakfast?"

"After breakfast will be soon enough. And, yes, your highness, I will go." Dorgan sketched a wave at Randor and went out. Marlena turned toward Randor, who prudently picked up his tray and settled it across his knees. He placed the viewer on the left corner of it so that Marlena could watch with him.

* * *

Adam carefully washed the burn on his arm, hissing at the pain. Having enough clean water to wash an injury in and still be able to drink something was a novelty. And the pitcher filled up as fast as he used it. He looked at the grey fabric he'd used as a bandage the night before distastefully, and got up. He pulled his fresh pajamas out from under the bed, and, taking the pants and one of his pottery shards, he ripped it into strips. Clean bandages, and he still had a pair of pants and a shirt to wear.

He wrapped the burn gently in one of the new strips he'd made, then walked over to gaze down at the chest the rotten jerk had brought with him the night before. On top of it stood a pot of marigolds. Kneeling in front of it, Adam picked the plant up and put it on the floor. "What is this?" he asked. The chest looked vaguely familiar. Maybe it was from one of the storage rooms at the palace. He lifted the hasps and opened it.

Inside lay a peculiar assortment of things, but on top there was a letter in handwriting he recognized. He stared at it for a long moment, then reached forward slowly and picked it up. "My dear Adam," he read aloud. It was from his father. He looked again at the things in the chest. Books, weights, paper, his hairbrush. . .this wasn't from the imposter, this was from his father.

Blinking against a sudden hotness in his eyes, he got up and walked over to the table and his breakfast, taking the letter with him. He started to read it as he ate. He had to put his fork down almost immediately, though.

As he read the first paragraph, he thought about the number of books he'd seen in that chest. How long did his father expect the imposter to keep him here?

_I miss you dreadfully._ Adam had to stop when he read that. He couldn't even find a way to express how much he missed his father, missed his mother, missed everybody, missed anybody. He really missed Cringer. Adam took a deep breath to control his feelings, and read on. He had to read the next three sentences several times, trying to puzzle out what his father was trying to say. _As your father, I want you here by my side, and I will do anything to achieve that._ "I hope not," Adam said, thinking of things that the doppelganger could be asking for. "Father, you can't." But his father couldn't hear him. _As King of Eternia, my duty is clear. I need my sole heir returned to me, alive and well._ The "sole heir" thing was pretty clear. Adam had always wondered why his parents hadn't had any more children after him. Not only would he have liked to have siblings, but it did seem kind of risky for a king to have just one child. Adam wondered how worried his father would be now if there were a couple of brothers at home to take his place. It would sure take the pressure off, he thought.

_Remember, as a prince, your life is not your own._ Back to that again. Adam didn't want to think about that. He was going to survive. No sadistic little copycat was going to get rid of him. And thinking about himself weak and feeble in front of Skeletor made his skin crawl. He'd already been there, thank you. He also didn't need to think about how his mother was going to react to anything. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes.

* * *

"What is that he's reading?" Marlena asked as Adam dropped the letter to the table top and put his head in his hands. "It seems to be upsetting him." Randor felt himself shrink. The letter wasn't supposed to make Adam upset. It was supposed to buck him up. "Randor, do you suppose the weasel wrote to him? What would he say?"

"It's not that, Marlena. The letter is from me."

"You wrote to Adam?" Marlena's tone was decidedly neutral, which made Randor very nervous. "What did you say to him?"

"Just that I miss him and we love him and not to give up."

"I suppose you put a lot of emphasis on the not giving up part," she said.

"I tried to be encouraging, Marlena. I didn't want him to see the piles of things I sent and assume that we were expecting him to be there for months or something."

Marlena's eyes widened. "That's a truly horrible thought. What if that unspeakable toad comes up with something else he wants when the machine is built? He's got Adam. If he doesn't choose to hand him over, what could we do about it?"

"He won't. He knows if he does I'll kill him and take my chances on finding Adam." Randor shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean for the letter to upset him."

"Randor, of course he's upset. He's alone in a strange place and he's just gotten word from home that says, I would assume, that we're trying to rescue him. Being upset by it doesn't necessarily mean it's making him unhappy."

"I just -"

"Don't worry so much, Randor." She put a hand on his. "Sometimes I miss the days when Adam was small and you two could talk to each other."

Randor blinked, taken aback by this remark.

* * *

Cringer was pining for him? Adam thought. But - what was the imposter doing to him? Was he okay? Adam shook his head. His father wouldn't have said that Cringer was pining for him if Cringer was hurt or sick or something, would he?

He had to laugh over the next sentence, though. He had been complaining about how everyone watched him, but he'd prefer that over solitude in this tiny cell. He was glad to hear that everyone at the palace was well, but he wondered if his father would even tell him if that wasn't the case. Of course, then he would probably just leave it out, not lie. Adam shrugged.

_Your mother and I love you very much. . . _Adam bit his lip. He had to say that, didn't he? Adam rubbed his eyes, and read on. _You're in my thoughts every second of the day._ Adam blinked. His eyes were suddenly watering, and he sniffed.

* * *

"He's crying!" Randor was appalled. "Marlena, what could I have said to make him cry?"

"I don't suppose you told him that you love him, Randor?"

Randor stiffened in embarrassment. "Of course, I told him that we both love him." Marlena raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "And that I miss him and that I'm thinking of him," he added defensively, though he wasn't sure what he was being defensive about.

"Randor, I remember you crying when you read a letter from your father expressing much the same sentiments."

"I did not cry. My eyes were watering!"

* * *

When Adam could see again, he rolled a piece of bacon up in a pancake and went back over to the chest. He munched as he pulled things out. The first two books he found were novels that he remembered telling his father that he wanted to read. He put them next to the bed. As he pulled out the rest of the books, he realized that they were all his research materials on the Pelian war. It looked like every single one was there. When he picked up the last one, he found the small chest that contained the journals of Elegius beneath it. He froze. What was his father thinking to send those irreplaceable books to this benighted place? What if they never found him?

He pulled the chest out and looked at it. Of course, he'd have difficulty working on this project without them. And without Teela. Without her to bounce ideas off of he'd have to go it alone. He was suddenly very alarmed. He missed Teela. He'd love to have Teela yelling at him right now. Things had to be pretty bad for him to want that. After setting the chest down, he looked into the box.

All his toiletries were there. Only his father would think of that, but Adam was grateful nonetheless. He wanted to have clean hair. That would be difficult, but he'd work out the logistics later. There were a couple of little boxes, and as he reached for the first one, his burned arm brushed the side of the chest. Letting out a cry of pain, he sat back, biting his lip until the pain subsided.

The little box proved to contain his favorite candies. He didn't even know that his father knew which his favorites were. A slightly larger box contained cookies. He stuffed one in his mouth and kept looking. Several jars of paints confused him, but he shrugged and put them aside. There were two decks of cards. Solitaire could while away an hour or two. Adam sighed. Or ten. The weights he needed for exercising his legs properly were a nice touch. Dorgan would be pleased.

There was something wrapped in cloth at the very bottom of the chest. Adam reached in and picked it up. The cloth was a blanket, Adam was pleased to see. It wasn't actually cold in here, but it was nice to have something that was his own. Too bad his father hadn't thought to send his pillow.

The item in the blanket was heavy-ish and solid. He unwrapped it carefully, wondering what it was. As the covering fell away, Adam stared in surprise. It was the painting of Cringer that Ram-Man had made for him. He usually kept it on his dresser. His eyes filled with tears and he clutched the picture to his chest.

* * *

"Marlena, he's crying!" Randor exclaimed. "I thought he'd like to have that picture." Marlena didn't respond, so Randor looked over at her. "Marlena, you're crying!"

"That was a sweet thought, dear. It's too bad we can't just send the whole cat."

"I thought about suggesting it, but I don't want to hand him another hostage. Just think if he decided to hurt Cringer in front of Adam." Marlena blanched, and Randor found himself wishing he hadn't thought of it. He pulled her into his arms and she clung to him. It was a comfort to have her close.

A commotion in the main room of the infirmary made them both look up. The consternation in the voices they could hear alarmed Randor. He put his barely touched breakfast tray aside, pulled the blanket back and stood up.

"Randor!" Marlena said, trying to push him back.

"A night's rest and those doses of glop have restored me, Marlena." He caught her hands and kissed them. "I must know what's going on." Marlena put an arm around his waist, and they walked to the door to see what had happened.

Mekanek lay unconscious on an exam table in the middle of the room. A stretcher leaned against a nearby wall, and medics swarmed around the master while a guard stood uneasily by the door. Dorgan was coming out of his office as the king arrived. Randor let go of Marlena and strode forward. "Dorgan, what happened?"

The old healer looked to one of the medics. "We don't know. He was found this morning in one of the parlors. They tried to wake him there, but -" The medic shook his head. "I can't find anything wrong with him."

"Send for Man-at-Arms," Randor ordered. "He can check the neck apparatus."

Marlena spoke up from his side. "Have the guards search the palace compound for intruders."

"A search is already underway, your highness," the guard said. "Captain Teela ordered me to stay here, to protect you and the king."

Randor looked down at his friend, fuming inside. He doubted there had been an intruder, but what was the imposter thinking to attack one of the masters like this? Was he trying to cause panic? A moment later Duncan came in. "What's happened?"

"We don't know," the medic replied. "His pulse is normal, his temperature is normal, everything I can check is normal. He should be fine - he's just not." Duncan glanced up at Randor and they exchanged a worried look. Duncan bent and gently extended Mekanek's neck slightly so that he could look at the circuitry.

Dorgan walked over and took the king's arm. "Have you eaten yet, sire?"

"No, he hasn't," Marlena said before Randor could speak.

"Well, then, your highness, it's time for you to finish your breakfast."

Randor resisted the healer's guidance for a moment to speak to Man-at-Arms. "Duncan, when you've finished your examination, please come tell me what you've learned." His advisor waved acknowledgment, not looking up from his task, and, satisfied, Randor allowed himself to be led away.

When they looked in on him again, Adam had begun rearranging his space. He'd placed the picture of Cringer on the chest and was piling the books neatly against a wall. He picked up the plant, looked perplexedly at it, and placed it on the corner of the table, well away from the spot where his meals appeared. He watered it carefully, then sat down to finish his breakfast. Randor was pleased to see that he wasn't dwelling on his miserable circumstances. Sitting down on the bed, he applied himself to his own breakfast with a will.

He and Marlena watched as Adam finished eating and then set about his morning stretching exercises. He'd already starting working with the weights before Duncan came in. Before Man-at-Arms said anything, he walked over, picked up the viewer and looked down at the image of Adam. "He looks like he's all right," he said, relief evident in his tone.

"Yes," Marlena said. "Randor, I must go." Her eyes were bright, and she squeezed his hand. "There are things that need dealing with, and I must let people know that, while you are unwell, you are by no means incapacitated."

Randor put the empty tray aside and stood up, taking her by the shoulders. He gazed worriedly into her eyes. "Marlena, I'm sure that someone else could -"

"No, Randor. I can't watch anymore right now. I know that you are, and that's enough." She smiled tremulously, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and left. Randor turned to watch her go, biting his lip.

"She'll be fine, Randor," Duncan said, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I know. I just - I'd rather she wasn't out of my sight." Duncan nodded sympathetically, and Randor shook his head to clear himself of his maudlin mood. It didn't noticeably help. He turned back to Man-at-Arms. "What's wrong with Mekanek?"

"Nothing that I can see. It makes me profoundly nervous, but what reason could the imposter possibly have to attack Mekanek?"

Randor shook his head. "I don't know. According to you, he was spying on me, not him, so I can't imagine -"

The door opened suddenly and the imposter walked in. "Good morning, Father, Man-at-Arms," he said, shutting the door behind him. "Father, I do hope you're feeling better this morning." Randor glanced around for the viewer. Duncan had closed his hand around it and was starting to tuck it away in his belt, but this only drew the imposter's attention to it. The weasel strode forward and snatched it away from Duncan. He glared at Randor. "What, are we showing off our toys?" he demanded in a fury. "Deactivate!" Tossing the now inert piece of river rock down onto the coverlet, he stepped back and turned to face both of them at once. "So the mechanic knows now." He raised an eyebrow. "I had thought you preferred your son whole."

Randor opened his mouth, but Duncan spoke before he could. "He didn't tell me," Man-at-Arms said quickly. "I figured it out on my own." The imposter straightened, his eyes flashing blue fire. Duncan pursed his lips. "You're not the best actor in the world, you know. Half the palace thinks there's something wrong with the prince."

"Indeed?" The imposter tilted his head, a vicious smile spreading across his face. Duncan's lip curled in revulsion, a reaction the doppelganger noticed and clearly enjoyed. His smile broadened and he gazed up into Duncan's eyes. "They could just be right." Randor's gut churned as the weasel spread his hands, speaking words he didn't understand.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, reaching for the viewer.

The weasel turned and forestalled him. "Oh, no, that's far too small an image to get across the magnitude of this new amusement I've sent the prince," he declared. Randor stared at him, appalled, as these words lifted his anxiety to new heights.

Murmuring, the imposter closed his eyes and drew his hand up high as though pulling something into his grasp. Opening his eyes once more, he threw his handful of nothing toward the door, sending a bolt of blue light at it which sank into the surface, glowing slightly. It spread, sending out tendrils until they were enclosed in a cage of luminous bars. "That will keep intruders out and noise in," he said with satisfaction. Then he conjured an image that filled half the room. Adam was seated in the chair and had weights strapped to both ankles. Slowly, he straightened one of his legs at the knee, held it there for a few seconds, then lowered it back to the ground. "And twenty-five," he grunted.

Behind him, an enormous purple leopard stood, tail lashing angrily. _Not Panthor, surely!_ Randor thought in desperation. Adam hadn't noticed his houseguest, which had started to stalk him. The prince bent to unstrap the weight from his left leg, and he must have caught a glimpse of what loomed behind him, for he sat up and turned with a shout of alarm. "What the -"

"No!" Randor cried. "Please don't!" Adam tried to get up to flee to the other side of the room, but the weights foiled him, causing him to fall forward to hands and knees. The feline batted the chair aside and snatched at him with one paw, raking red lines down the back of his thigh. Adam dragged himself out of reach. The cat slowly moved toward him, and Adam kept pulling himself away.


	9. A New Captive

**Chapter 9 A New Captive**

"It won't do you any good if that thing kills the prince!" Duncan exclaimed.

"Oh, I think we have a little time, don't you?" the imposter purred. The cat growled as it followed Adam around the room. "She doesn't seem to be in any hurry."

Randor's heart was in his mouth. Being mauled by a great cat was no joke, he knew that. "Don't do this, please!" Duncan glanced his way with worry, but Randor remembered Panthor's claws all too well.

"You seemed amused enough by that green cat's antics!" the imposter said. "I think Adam should get a taste of –"

"I stopped him," Randor said urgently. "He didn't touch you. There's no one to stop that creature from attacking Adam."

The imposter pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Too right," he said. He waved his fingers and a new image took the place of Adam's. Randor jerked back in surprise. Teela? Duncan took a step forward before he froze, watching intently. Teela was in a narrow hallway somewhere in the palace. The view shifted, and they could see the empty hall both before and behind her. "Good," the weasel murmured. A few more words and she vanished. The image changed again and they watched as Teela appeared in the room with Adam, her back to the unfolding drama.

"What the –" she exclaimed, looking at the yellow wall before her.

"Teela?!" Adam yelled, his voice a mix of consternation and relief. Adam had dragged the mattress off the bed, and he held it as a flimsy shield between himself and the cat. One corner of the blanket was draped over the cat's hindquarters and along her tail; it appeared that Adam had thrown it over the beast to distract it. The leopard gave her tail an irritated flick, and the blanket slid off. Teela whirled and took in the scene with one glance. Extending her cobra staff, she leapt at the enormous cat. The fight was swift, and in a moment, the cat lay unconscious but still visibly breathing. Teela stood over it and stared around her, breathing hard. The imposter smiled and murmured again. The cat disappeared. Randor heaved a sigh of relief. Teela jumped and swore.

"Adam? What's going on here?" she exclaimed. "I thought you were visiting your father in the infirmary!"

"What? What do you mean, in the infirmary?" Adam demanded, shoving the mattress aside. He started to get to his feet but stopped with a gasp of pain. Teela started toward him, but the image vanished abruptly as the imposter waved his hand.

"That should be an amusing scene," he said. "But not one we need watch, I don't think."

"You monster," Randor yelled, getting to his feet. "Aren't you going to bring her back?"

The imposter shrugged. "I think not." A slow malicious smile spread across his face as he glanced over at Duncan. "Now the mechanic has a little incentive to get things going." Though he didn't move or change expression, Randor could see that Duncan was furious. "And to keep the secret." Duncan's eyes narrowed.

"How are we going to explain her absence?" Randor asked.

"I'm sure you can come up with something. You could say that she's been sent on an errand, or to follow something up." He shrugged and grinned mockingly. "She irritated you so you got rid of her? You're the king, be creative." He walked over to the foot of the bed and sat down. "So, gentlemen, how about a progress report on my excavator?"

* * *

Teela helped him to his feet and got a look at his leg. "You're bleeding," she said unnecessarily. "Here, lie down." She pulled the mattress flat again and helped him stretch out on his stomach. "These aren't too bad." As usual, her method of helping involved a lot of bossing. 

He allowed himself to be positioned, bothered more by questions than her peremptory ways. _What is she doing here?_ "Teela," he said impatiently. "You said my father was in the infirmary. Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" she said in an irritated tone. "I told you last night that he collapsed. Now hold still and let me get the bleeding stopped." After cutting the rest of the pant leg away, she grabbed the unused cloth napkin off the table and pressed it against the back of his thigh.

Adam clenched his teeth at the pain and his frustration. "You didn't tell me anything last night, Teela," he said through his grimace of pain.

"Yes, I did," she said crabbily. Adam started counting to ten. "I found you on the balcony last night and you wouldn't –"

His patience snapped. "I haven't been out of this room in four days," he said. "There's an imposter pretending to be me at the palace. What happened to my father?"

Teela's hands froze as what he said penetrated. "What did you say? There's an imposter?"

Adam took a deep breath and let it out again slowly. "What's wrong with my father?" he asked in tones he knew were harsh, but he couldn't help it. _If she doesn't tell me what's going on soon, so help me . . ._

Her paralysis broke and she began working on his leg again. "Oh, right. Um, I heard in the kitchens that he wasn't eating or sleeping very well, he's been having migraines or something, and – but if there's an imposter, it makes so much more sense. Does your father know?"

"Yes," Adam said irritably. This was like pulling teeth. "What do you mean, he hasn't been eating?"

"I don't know, Adam," she said, her voice worried. "Father just came back last night and told me that the king wasn't feeling well, but that he was getting treatment for what was wrong."

As Teela spoke, Adam started to feel very odd. "Treatment for what?" he tried to ask, but his voice wouldn't come out right. Nausea started curling in his belly.

"What Adam? I can't hear you." She pulled the napkin off his leg again, and started to clean the injury. "Adam, this is swelling really badly, and the skin's awfully hot." He felt her pressing her hand against the wound. "Adam, how do you feel?"

He swallowed hard against the nausea that was increasing by the second. "Get the chamberpot, Teela!" he said. "I think I'm gonna –" His words were interrupted by a retch, but Teela got the pot in front of him before he started to vomit. When he had done, he lay limply on the floor, which seemed to have developed a wave-like motion.

"Adam, are you all right? Adam?" He heard her voice distantly, but dizziness dragged him from consciousness.

* * *

"All right then," the imposter said to Duncan. "I'll be expecting regular daily reports on your progress, Man-at-Arms." Duncan nodded, jaw set. "As for you, your highness, I would strongly recommend against letting anyone else find out about our little secret." Randor's jaw clenched. He, too, confined his response to a nod. "You gentlemen are being very quiet. I'd have expected you'd thank me, Randor, for –" 

"Thank you?" Duncan spluttered. "What would he –" Randor put a hand on Duncan's arm in a vise-like grip and the engineer fell silent.

The imposter gave them both a supercilious smile. "Why, for not crippling his son."

Duncan opened his mouth again, but Randor tightened his grip. "Thank you," he said firmly. "Thank you for not crippling him."

"Very good, Randor. You're learning." Randor could hear Duncan grinding his teeth. "Man-at-Arms, you should observe your lord and master to learn appropriate behavior."

Randor closed his eyes and took a deep breath to control his temper. When he opened them again, the imposter had turned away and was dismissing his spell. "Wait," he said. The imposter turned back and raised an inquiring eyebrow. Striving to keep his voice calm and not accusing, Randor said, "Please, will you send them some antibiotics and bandages?"

"Well, Randor, I see you really are learning." He looked thoughtful. "You might also consider something to ameliorate the poison in that beast's claws." Randor's eyes widened. "Oh, don't worry, it's nothing lethal, just uncomfortable."

"Leave it to me, Randor," Duncan said, going to the cupboards and rummaging through. Randor nodded, and turned back to the imposter.

"What did you do to Mekanek?"

"Oh, him?" The weasel shrugged. "I'm afraid that was my fault. He overheard me talking to myself, and I could tell that he wouldn't be able to keep the secret."

"Will he wake up?"

"Oh yes. I thought I'd take a cue from one of Evil-Lyn's more amusing ideas." Randor's brows knit. What could he mean? "That 'master' won't awaken until he receives a kiss from a prince."

"So he, too, is a hostage till you get what you want."

The imposter shrugged. "If that's how you view it." He tilted his head. "You really do have too many people you care about, Randor. It's far too easy to get a handle on you."

"Your assessment is noted," Randor said through clenched teeth. The imposter winked at him. Randor turned away abruptly to keep from wiping the smarmy look off his face.

"This should about cover it," Duncan said, presenting a basin full of supplies to the king. Randor nodded and started to hand the basin to the imposter. He paused, though, at a sudden thought. "You don't actually have to go there to take this, do you?"

"What, don't you want me to visit your little boy?"

"Not really, no."

The imposter chuckled. "No. I'll just send it in the way I send the food." He took the basin and turned to go. Before he left, though, he gave Duncan a steely look. "I'll expect to see you after dinner with news on my machine."

"You will."

"I'd better." With that, he left.

Randor sank into the chair by the bed and buried his face in his hands. "And now there are three," he murmured.

Duncan sank onto the bed. "I had no idea – my god, how horrible. It was bad enough when I thought Adam was just behaving poorly. But seeing that perversity looking out through Adam's eyes is – well – disturbing." Randor nodded. "And you've been living with this alone for three days?"

"Dorgan found out on the second day."

Duncan reached out and picked up the viewer. "How do you make this work?" he asked.

When they activated the magical artifact, Adam appeared to be unconscious, and Teela was attempting to clean the gashes in the back of his leg using bandages from her little kit. The bleeding had clearly stopped, but the wounds were swelling enormously. "I hope he gets that anti-venom to them quickly," Duncan murmured.

Teela sat back on her heels, and sighed, looking around at the tiny space. She stood up in surprise as the breakfast plates vanished and were replaced by the basin of supplies they had gathered. She approached it very cautiously, and, recognizing what it was, began quickly emptying out the contents. When she found the anti-venom, she scanned the directions and applied it at once. The swelling seemed to begin reducing almost immediately, and Randor sighed with relief.

"Thank the Elders she's there," Randor breathed, watching her bandage the wounds meticulously. Realizing what he'd just said, he looked up at Duncan's face contritely. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking."

Duncan shook his head. "No, don't apologize. I was actually thinking the same thing, more or less. Adam needs someone there to take care of him."

Randor closed his eyes. "Duncan, what did I do to deserve such friendship?" His advisor didn't respond in words, just put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm just glad she'll be by his side when he's king one day."

Duncan squeezed his shoulder. "Adam will have many staunch friends beside him on that distant day." Randor noted with wry amusement that Duncan placed extra emphasis on 'distant.' Together, they returned to their observation of their children.

After ascertaining that the anti-toxin was taking effect, Teela had returned to sorting through the supplies, laying them in piles according to their function. She'd always been a very methodical girl, Randor thought, remembering her piling her blocks up in just such a manner preparatory to building some high-flying structure. When she picked up the burn ointment, he could see that it puzzled her. She looked at it, turning it over in her hands slowly, then realization dawned on her face and she turned back to Adam who lay on the mattress on the floor, innocently unaware of her alarm.

She fell to her knees, and stopped, stymied. Randor wondered what she was going to do. Very gently, she turned him over and opened the shirt of his pajamas. Adam didn't stir as she drew his arms, like a doll's, out of the sleeves. The makeshift bandage riveted her attention and she deftly unwound Adam's work. Both he and Duncan got a very good look at the injury as she examined it closely, her back stiffening in fury as she realized that it had to have been deliberately inflicted.

Randor, having seen it before, had known what to expect, but still, the burn in the shape of a gripping hand turned his stomach. Duncan looked poleaxed. "That man has much to answer for," he muttered. With expert fingers, Teela applied the ointment, turning the arm carefully so she could reach all of it. The most intense burning had clearly taken place at the palm and the tips of the fingers, where the grip was most firm. Randor bit his lip, but couldn't look away as she rebandaged the arm with a fresh, clean cloth. "Randor," Duncan snapped, "show me your burn!"

"What?" he looked up into his friend's demanding eyes. "Duncan, no!"

"You said Adam's was less severe than your own. Let me see it."

"Dorgan will not be pleased if I unbandage it to satisfy your morbid curiosity!"

"Morbid – Randor, I am a soldier in your service! I cannot believe that you were attacked here in this very palace and you did not come immediately to tell me. I had to drag it out of your physician!"

"I couldn't Duncan, surely you can see why! If you didn't know, Teela would be here, safe and sound."

"If I didn't know, Marlena and I would have locked you up with your erratic behavior. Randor, you can't – you shouldn't have tried to handle this alone!"

Randor looked away from the worried and exasperated face of his friend down to the viewer. Teela was now examining every square inch of Adam's torso for other injuries. When it became clear that Randor was not going to respond, Duncan sighed heavily and turned back to watch as well. Teela, rolling Adam over again, looked at his back. Randor started when he saw a set of fresh pajamas appear on the bed. Teela jumped at the sudden appearance, and she looked around for a threat. Finding merely the pajamas, she reached out and picked them up. After a thorough examination, she tossed them back on the bed and looked back down at Adam. Taking a deep breath, she very carefully cut away the waist band of his pants in the back and then slit down both legs.

Adam's legs were still blotchy and discolored from the casts he'd worn for two months, and she moved them in order to look them over carefully. As she did so, Randor noticed the scar on his right thigh. When Tri-Klops had blown up the door of his bedroom two months ago, a huge chunk of wood had stabbed into Adam's leg like a spear. He'd been attempting to protect his father when that blow had landed.

Randor set his teeth against the tide of bitter invective that threatened to flood out. He was infuriated by what this evil monster's machinations were doing to his son.

Teela finished her examination of Adam's legs and sat back on her heels, looking down at his pelvic area, which was covered by gray, drawstring undershorts. The boy lay on his back, his head turned to the side, face flushed and sweating slightly. "Teela," her father murmured in a remonstrative tone. "Don't stop now. It won't hurt him, and you need to find out, and then get him under covers." Very tentatively, as if she'd heard her father's chiding comment, Teela untied the shorts and lifted the waistband slightly, peering sidelong. Before she could have seen anything, she shook her head and re-tied them. "I'm going to have to have a talk with her when she gets back," Duncan said, pursing his lips.

"Don't be too hard on her, Duncan, she's only sixteen." Duncan just shook his head.

After carefully laying out the blanket and the quilt, she rolled Adam off the mattress and put it back on the bed. She managed to get the fresh pajama pants onto him, then lifted him from the floor to the low bed and covered him up as well as she could with both of the blankets. When she was sure that he was resting comfortably, she stood up and looked around the room. Randor could hardly imagine her feelings.

It took a depressingly short time for her to get a good look at her surroundings, though she spent a little while gazing at Adam's carvings on the walls. She, too, put a hand on the engraved doorknob, her fingers lingering on it thoughtfully. Then she turned and looked at the contents of the room. He could almost see her itemizing them. One chair, one table, one chest, one potted plant. She walked over and picked up the plant to look at it, clearly puzzled by its presence. A piece of paper on the table caught her attention and she picked it up. Randor suddenly realized that it was the note he'd written to Adam. He groaned.

"What?" demanded Duncan. "What is it? Is there something wrong?"

"Not exactly. That's just the letter I wrote to Adam."

Duncan glared at him incredulously. "Randor, you gave me a heart attack over a letter?"

Randor shrugged, unsure just why it made him so uncomfortable to watch her reading the words he'd penned for his son. It wasn't as though it was actually a very private missive – the imposter had read it. She scanned the letter quickly, her brows knitting as she read. When she was done, she raised an eyebrow at the potted plant and snorted. She put the letter back down on the table, carefully placing it just as she'd found it with a mildly embarrassed look. Then she turned to the chest, and Cringer's picture. Her eyes softened, and she tilted her head, reaching out to touch the tiger's painted face. She said something, but Randor couldn't see what it was. Probably reassuring words for the tiger.

"I've got to go visit Cringer," Randor said absently.

"Cringer!" Duncan exclaimed. "No wonder he had Adam pinned to the wall – he knew it wasn't him." Randor nodded. "And that explains your odd attitude."

"I actually kind of enjoyed his look of terror, I must admit."

"You didn't hide it very well." Randor sighed. "I think I'd better visit Cringer as well. Does he know what's going on?"

"I told him, though I don't know how much he really understood, but we had a good long visit. I do have to go back, though. The poor fellow must be very depressed with Adam missing and himself locked away."

The chest was open when Randor looked back down, and Teela was going through the contents. There wasn't much in there since Adam had pulled out the books and placed them against the wall. When she was done, she replaced the picture on top of the chest and stood up, hands on her hips. Slowly, she turned, surveying the whole space, a disgusted expression on her face. Randor was looking at her when she spoke, and he could have sworn she said, "Well, this is just great."

Duncan chuckled. "That's my girl," he said.


	10. Teela

**Chapter 10 Teela**

Randor was released from the infirmary several hours later by a disgruntled Dorgan who seemed to think he should stay in bed for the rest of the day. Duncan had left to get some duties taken care of, and Randor was all too aware that he'd been letting things slide rather thoroughly himself. Marlena was taking care of the most urgent matters, covering him with the fiction that he was ill. Guilt suffused him, but he hadn't been able to stop watching Adam and Teela, even though he was just sleeping and she was exercising.

Finally, his inaction had gotten to him, and forced him to get up and find something to do. It occurred to him that he still needed to visit Cringer. He arrived at Cringer's prison to find that Duncan had beaten him to it.

"Don't worry, Cringer, everything will be fine," Man-at-Arms was saying as he opened the door. "Teela is with him now, and he'll be fine." Randor peered around the door and saw that Cringer was sitting up and Duncan was kneeling in front of him. The cat looked pathetically pleased to have a visitor, and was butting at Man-at-Arms' hands. "There's nothing you can do this time, Cringer. I only wish there was."

"There wasn't much he could do last time, either," Randor said. Duncan jumped and looked up in startlement.

"Your highness, I –"

"Hello, Cringer," Randor said, shutting the door and going through the passgate. "I'm glad to see that you've had another visitor besides me."

"Teela's been to see him several times," Duncan said. "I thought you knew."

"No, but it doesn't surprise me." Randor sat down on the floor and started scratching the big cat. "She was always soft on him, no matter what she said."

"I think we all are, Randor."

The king and his chief advisor spent an hour at least cosseting the cat before they had to return to their duties. Randor spent the afternoon dealing with some issues that only he could solve, but by dinner time, he was back in his study watching Teela worry about Adam. Marlena joined him for dinner, but after getting a quick look at the two of them, she didn't want to watch them.

"I can pace enough myself without watching Teela do it." When he'd told her that Teela had been taken as well, Randor had watched the same conflicted emotions cross her face that he had felt. Relief, anxiety, apprehension, guilt for being glad that Adam was no longer alone. "Just tell me if anything important happens."

Adam had slept through the whole day, as far as Randor could see. He'd watched Teela carefully pouring glop down his throat more than once when he'd looked in on them. Teela had whiled away the time in irritable activity, and then had finally settled down on the floor at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall to doze off.

Marlena dragged him to bed that night, and they had cuddled close together, seeking comfort in their loss. No, not loss, Randor shook his head grumpily. They haven't been lost. Their deprivation. He lay down with Marlena in his arms and tried to sleep.

He awoke several times in the night and looked in on the children. Teela was having trouble sleeping as well, she kept getting up and walking around. The witchlight dimmed at night, while they slept, but there was enough light to see by.

As dawn lightened the eastern sky, Randor woke to see that Teela had extended her staff and was prying at the wood of the walls. He watched as she pulled one board free, and then started yanking them out to widen the hole. What she uncovered was astonishing.

* * *

Adam woke up lying on the cot under the quilt his father had sent him. _Were the leopard and Teela just a dream? _he wondered. His eyes fell on the white bandage that now covered the burn on his arm. No, then, he thought.

There was an odd quality to the light in here this morning. Sort of a greenish, rippling effect. He sat up gingerly and looked around.

Teela stood stock still, her extended staff in one hand. Yellow boards lay around her, and she was staring out through the hole she'd made. Adam found himself likewise transfixed by the view. In the distance, seaweed danced gracefully in water currents. Schools of fish made darting shifts in direction, the dim light from their prison flashing on their scales. Teela reached out a tentative hand to touch the surface that lay beneath the wood of the walls. Adam wondered what it felt like. They both started and Teela drew back as a pair of octopi hurtled past the jagged window Teela had created, struggling against each other, quickly passing out of sight. Adam gazed in astonishment at the vista Teela had revealed.

A pair of battling octopi? Randor stared, appalled by the realization that his son and Duncan's daughter were in a small box deep under the sea. Marlena stirred next to him, and leaned over to see what he was looking at. "Randor?" she said blearily, "what are you – oh my – tell me I'm dreaming!"

"No, Marlena, you're not. I wish you were." He blinked. "But this does narrow it down a bit."

"A bit, I suppose." Marlena leaned over him silently for a moment. "I have to go," she murmured, then got up and walked swiftly into the bathing chamber. He watched her go, and then, keeping his eyes on the viewer, started dressing himself. He had to find Duncan.

* * *

Adam came back to himself suddenly and launched himself across the room. "Teela, no! Put them back!" He fell to his knees, but, ignoring his weakness and the stiffness of his muscles, he seized one of the short planks and tried to figure out how to fit it into the opening.

Teela turned in surprise. "What? Why?"

"He said he'd kill my mother if I tried to get through the walls!"

After one appalled moment, Teela began shoving the boards back in. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know." She took the wood right out of his hands. "Go sit down, Adam. You shouldn't be up."

Despite the urgency he felt about getting that hole filled in again, Adam was compelled to obey. His head ached abominably, and he still felt vaguely nauseated. "What's wrong with me?" he asked uneasily as he sat down at the table.

"It's the aftereffects of that scratch you got. A few minutes after you passed out, the food dishes were replaced by a basin full of medical supplies." She gave the last piece a solid shove to reseat it and turned around to face him. "One of them was an anti-toxin, so instead of being sick for three or four days, your nausea should pass off sometime today."

"Oh good," Adam said feelingly. He opened his mouth to ask if she knew anything else about his father, but she spoke before he could go on.

"Are there any more rules I should know about?" Teela asked in a slightly worried voice.

Adam shook his head. "No, that's the only one." He reached out to pour himself a glass of water and his burn twinged. "Oh, and don't attack him," he added, glaring at the neat bandage. He realized abruptly that he wasn't wearing a shirt and that the pants he wore were whole. An unpleasantly sweetish taste lingered in his mouth. A familiar, sweetish taste. _It couldn't be. Glop?_ "How long was I unconscious?" he asked.

Teela walked over and put the back of her hand against his forehead. "Only about a day. Your fever's gone down considerably."

Adam shifted irritably away from her. "How did I wind up in these clothes?" he asked suspiciously.

Shrugging, Teela sat down against one of the walls. "What difference does it make?" she asked. "We need to talk about –"

"Did I change myself and just forget?" Adam asked, unwilling to let the subject slide. He didn't like the thought that she might have – might have – He flushed. "Or –"

Teela let out an explosive sigh. "I changed your clothes, Adam," she said briskly. "I had to."

"But Teela!" he exclaimed, feeling his face go very hot.

"Adam, you're being silly," she replied, going slightly pink herself. "I didn't even know you had a burn until I saw the burn ointment among the supplies. You were starting to get a fever, and I had to make sure that you didn't have any other injuries." She shrugged. "Besides, those pants were wrecked and bloody." Adam scowled. There wasn't anything he could object to reasonably in what she'd said. "That's a pretty bad burn."

His eyes strayed back to the bandage. "Yeah, well, now you know why I don't think you should attack him," he said off-handedly, unprepared for the vehemence of Teela's reaction.

The strength of her emotions propelled her to her feet, and she started to pace. "That pathetic, rotten, vindictive bully! You couldn't have done any real damage to him, and that – that – that's horrible!"

Adam's brows knit and he looked up at her feeling a little hurt. "What do you mean I couldn't have really hurt him?"

She stopped and looked at him, tilting her head. "Well, I've seen him a lot over the last day or so, and he hasn't been limping or bandaged." Adam blinked. That wasn't what he'd thought she meant. Her expression darkened again and she glared at his arm. "That handprint is just sick!"

Adam nodded his agreement. "Yeah," he said. "And it's my handprint."

Teela shuddered. "So, he did that while you were fighting?" she asked, walking over to the bed and sitting down on it tailor-fashion.

Adam shook his head. "No, after. And it wasn't much of a fight, really." Adam sighed. "He slammed me against a wall with a spell before I got near him."

"I don't understand. What happened?"

Adam closed his eyes. "I don't really want to talk about it, Teela."

She was quiet for a moment, then she said, "Adam, are you all right?" He opened his eyes to see that she was gazing worriedly at him. "What did he do to you?"

The intensity of her regard made Adam shift uncomfortably. "He burned me. That's all." She leaned toward him, her eyes boring into his. "Teela, it's fine. It could have been a lot worse!"

She drew back in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Adam shrugged. This wasn't a subject he liked even thinking about. "When he told me not to try to go through the walls, he showed me what he can do with his hands."

Teela's eyes widened. "But, there aren't any other wounds – what did he do?"

"He turned a chair like this one to ash in like two seconds, just by laying his hand on it." Teela's eyes were huge. "I thought, when he came at me with his hand upraised, that –" He shuddered. "A handprint somehow doesn't seem so bad."

"Oh." Her voice was very small.

"So, what happened to my dad?" he demanded. "You said he collapsed?"

Teela opened her mouth and looked uncomfortable. "I don't really know much. I've already told you what I know. He's unwell but being treated. How long have you been here? You said four days?" Adam nodded. "So when Cringer attacked you it was really him?"

Adam's jaw dropped. "Cringer did what?"

Teela blinked. "Oh, right, you wouldn't know about that. He –"

"Did the imposter hurt him?"

"No, he sort of froze. It was weird. Your father showed up and pulled Cringer away, but that's when everyone started wondering what was wrong with the king."

"With my father?"

"He was almost laughing – I didn't get it, but he must have know that wasn't you –"

"But what happened to Cringer?"

"Your father had him locked up in a room and told everyone he'd forbidden you to visit him."

"He's been alone in a little room for four days?" Adam exclaimed. "But he hates being alone! And he's afraid of the dark!"

Teela sighed. "He's fine, Adam. I visited him yesterday morning."

"What about today?"

She rolled her eyes. "I've been here today."

"Oh, right." Adam sighed. A burst of anger shot through him and he slammed his fist down on the table. "I hate this!" He stood up, wobbling slightly. Exasperated, he steadied himself then walked over to the chest where he picked up the picture and sat down, holding it in his arms. "I want to go home."

"I'm sure." Teela stood up and walked around the room, looking at the walls. "Nice carvings, by the way. How'd you do them?"

"I just used –" He looked around for one of the pottery shards, but found they were all gone. Letting out a short laugh, he said, "Now why am I not surprised?" Teela raised a brow. "I broke a plate and used the pieces. But I grabbed one of them when I went to attack him, and I guess he decided I didn't need them anymore."

"He took shards of pottery but left me my staff? Wait a minute! You attacked him with a piece of a plate?"

"It's not like I had anything else."

"What about a book? Or –"

"I didn't have those yet."

"But a chair, even."

"I was going for subtle, Teela." Adam looked down at the picture, trying to imagine Cringer terrifying the imposter. "Not that it worked."

"At least you tried."

Adam leaned back against the wall, watching Teela trace the lines of the archway he'd carved. She was already restless, and she hadn't even been here a whole day yet. This room could get really cramped really fast if she started bouncing of the walls.

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. His head was throbbing, but the thought of sleeping any longer was unbearable. Instead, he tried to marshal his energy to start working on some research. With Teela here, he could at least bounce ideas off her. Maybe that would help keep her occupied.

A warm hand on his forehead made him scowl. "Teela, I'm fine," he muttered.

"What?" she said, and he could tell she was much too far away to be touching him. His eyes snapped open and she gasped at the same moment. The imposter stood in front of him, one hand on Adam's head, gazing across the room at Teela.

"You make a good point, warrior girl," the imposter said. Adam reached up to shove his hand away, but there was a slight rise in the heat emanating from the hand. "Don't touch me, boy," his double said in a warning tone. Adam froze, then slowly lowered his hands. "Now, girl, you were quite right. Your weapons are a problem. Throw them down in the center of the room."

Teela didn't speak, and Adam couldn't really see her past the imposter, but he heard metallic thuds as she tossed her weapons down.

"Now, I don't really buy that you don't have anything else dangerous on you. Him, I got while he was sleeping. You were on active duty."

"You could just send her home," Adam said hopefully. "You don't really need her, do you?"

The imposter turned on him with a malicious grin. "Oh, but I do. That mechanic needs some incentive to get him moving on my project, and to keep the secret he had the bad sense to guess."

"What?" Teela exclaimed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, girl, that you are being held as surety against your father's actions. Does that annoy you?" Teela glared but didn't respond, a piece of wisdom that Adam heartily applauded. "Besides, I suddenly felt the need for a somewhat more – disposable – hostage, someone who –"

Fury coursed through Adam; forgetting all thoughts of wisdom, he surged to his feet, shoving the imposter back. "How dare you!" Adam cried.

A moment later, he slammed into the wall and slid limply down to the chest again. "How dare I?" the imposter purred, leaning close to him, one hand cupping his chin. "How dare you, boy? You've got no sense whatsoever, have you?"

"Leave him alone!" Teela shouted from across the room. "I've given you all my weapons. What else do you want?" The imposter looked into Adam's eyes, then grabbed his arm at the bandage and yanked him forward off the chest. Adam fell to his knees, gritting his teeth against the agonizing pain. Teela looked back and forth between them, a disturbed look on her face.

"What do I want?" The imposter muttered something and gestured with his free hand and a pile of fabric landed on the bed. "I want your clothes, girl." He grinned. "Strip."

If Adam could have become He-Man by sheer force of will at that moment, he would have slammed the imposter repeatedly against the floor. As it was, he reached up and grabbed the familiar leather strap across the front of the imposter's chest, dragging him down. He broke his other arm free of the double's grip with a gasp of pain. They hit the floor together, and Adam swung at the fellow, connecting with a meaty thunk. He got in several more blows as they rolled across the floor, but adrenaline and rage could only carry him so far. His depleted strength was no match for the imposter's, and he soon found himself pinned to the floor, struggling futilely.

The doppelganger placed his hand on Adam's chest right over the heart. His eyes narrowing, he murmured those strange syllables again. The heat built up rapidly, and Adam screamed as he felt his skin burning. He reached out blindly, slapping the imposter in the face and then catching him at the neck. He sunk his thumb into the hollow of his attacker's throat and pressed until the double had to break away, gasping and clutching at his neck. His eyes flashed fire, and he took a step towards Adam. Grunting with the pain the effort caused him, Adam dragged himself backwards. Teela's uniform hit the imposter in the face.

"There, you've got my clothes, you perverse lunatic!" she yelled.

The imposter drew himself up to Adam's full height. This was the first time Adam could ever remember being glad that he wasn't quite as tall as Teela. He looked the captain of the royal guard in the eye and said, "Thank you." She had draped the blanket around her and was glaring at the villain. He waved his hand and murmured again.

He made his portal and was gone, and Teela's things with him.

* * *

Randor read over the same document for the fifth time, trying to get the sense of it. He was making no headway whatsoever this morning. Shortly after he'd watched Teela force the boards back into the wall to cover up the exterior view, Duncan had come in to see him. After much argument and some outright coercion, Duncan had gotten him to give the viewer to Stratos to take to the Sorceress to see if she could locate their missing children. It wasn't that he didn't want to find them, he just didn't want to give up the viewer.

Stratos had left early that morning and he still wasn't back yet. When Randor reached the fourth paragraph of the writ without gleaning so much as the names of the parties involved, he gave up. He decided to go see how Duncan was coming with the excavator. So far he hadn't even seen it. He supposed he ought to at least view the device that was costing his men so much time, his kingdom so much money and his family so much peace of mind.

Getting up to leave the room, he glanced out the window and saw the imposter crossing the courtyard below in company with Duncan. They were moving toward the infirmary, and Duncan had his arm firmly across the false Adam's shoulders. The sight made Randor distinctly uneasy, and he left his office at once to make his way to the infirmary.

"Your highness, have you heard about Adam?" exclaimed Orko, zipping up the way he did when he was agitated.

Randor shook his head. "No, Orko. What happened?"

"He was attacked, he says by thieves in the city. He looks like he got beat up pretty bad." Randor felt his eyes widen. What could have happened? And would the imposter blame him? "Your highness, is – is there –" Orko was twisting the hem of his robe and looking unhappy. Randor itched to get to the infirmary, but he couldn't leave the jester in such obvious distress.

"What is it, Orko?" he asked gently. "What do you want to ask?"

"Never mind, your highness. I'm sure you want to go see Adam."

Randor pursed his lips. "Orko, if something is troubling you –" The jester shrugged. "All right, not now. But come see me in my office later. I'll set aside some time for you." Orko nodded and floated away, the dejected tilt of his shoulders telling Randor clearly how anxious he was. Randor turned back toward the infirmary. If the imposter was angry he'd have to find some way to placate him.

As he entered the infirmary, a medic directed him immediately toward the room where Duncan had taken the imposter. Randor walked into the room and stared. Had it been Adam, he would have been very worried, seeking ice packs instantly, he knew that, but knowing that this was not Adam, that this was in fact someone who had been torturing his son, Randor found himself having to control wildly inappropriate laughter.

The imposter's right eye had swollen shut, and a cut in his eyebrow had clearly bled recently. A split lip merely completed the picture. Randor tried to remember that he should behave as though this were his son. "Ice!" he called. "We need ice."

"Already sent for, your highness," Duncan said calmly, one hand still on the imposter's shoulder. "Don't worry, Dorgan and I have things well in hand."

"Good, good," Randor said. He walked into the room and closed the door behind him. Now that there were no witnesses, his jaw set and he walked over to the ersatz prince. "How did this happen?" he demanded.

The imposter straightened, obviously surprised. "You didn't see?" he asked. "I thought you were always watching them." Randor stiffened. _What did the little –_ "That prince of yours isn't as wimpy as everybody thinks."

"Adam attacked you?" Randor said. "Again? What did you do?"

Shrugging, he said, "Nothing of import."

The door opened and Dorgan came bustling in, the very picture of a concerned healer. "All right, Adam, here's an ice pack for your eye." The healer slapped the ice pack against the imposter's face causing him to grunt slightly in pain. "I have some pain medication here as well. You know the one." The healer sighed. "We had such trouble with analgesics while you were in bed, but this is the one that we finally settled on as the best for you." Randor struggled to maintain his expression of concern. He didn't recall any particular difficulty with Adam's pain medications. What was Dorgan up to? "Now, take these pills. Swallow them down, Adam." The imposter washed the pills down with a glass of water handed to him by a straight-faced Duncan. "I'm sure your father and Man-at-Arms are going to want to talk to you, so I'll make sure no one comes in here."

The healer shot Randor a malicious grin as he left the room and shut the door firmly behind him. Duncan walked over to the door and leaned against it. "I went to make a 'progress report' and found him in the hallway outside Adam's room, swearing a blue streak." The imposter glared at him, but Duncan ignored him. "I shut him up and got him over here as fast as I could. Did someone tell you?"

"I saw you two in the courtyard."

The imposter was being unusually quiet. Randor gazed at the sullen expression. "What happened? Adam wouldn't have attacked you over 'nothing of import.'"

The weasel shifted the ice pack on his face. "I was merely making a point. He didn't like what I had to say."

Randor didn't like this. The way the weasel was hedging and stalling, made him very suspicious. Evidently Duncan felt the same, for he said, "So, what did you say?"

The imposter raised his eyes and met Duncan's, left eye narrowing. "What difference does it make?" he asked.

Duncan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Let's just say that the fact that you don't want to tell us makes me intensely curious."

"Yes, why don't you just tell us what you threatened my son with?"

"The threat was meant for you," the imposter snapped, glaring at Randor.

The malevolence in that expression made Randor want to wrap his hands around the imposter's throat and squeeze till he popped. "I see. Well, then, shouldn't I know what it is?" The weasel just sat mute, apparently unwilling to speak. "Well?"

Duncan gave him a thoughtful look. "I think he's annoyed that we weren't watching whatever he did."

Randor shook his head. "I'm not interested in what annoys him." He walked over till he loomed above the imposter. "What is it that you wanted me to know? And what else happened?" The imposter looked up at him, alarm writ in every line of his body. "What do you think, Duncan? Could I break his neck before he manages to burn me again?"

"I'm quite certain you could, your highness." The weasels eyes widened at Duncan's casual tone.

"I'm not an injured and weakened boy, you rotten little weasel. Or are you too frightened to tell me what you said to my son?"

"I simply told him that the girl was an expendable hostage." Randor saw Duncan's hands flex in his peripheral vision. "And then I took her weapons."

"When did Adam attack you?"

"When I told her to – to – to take her clothes off." There was a sudden loud knocking at the door, startling them all. It was fortunate for the imposter that they were interrupted, for Randor was ready throw him through a wall, and he didn't even want to guess what Duncan wanted to do to him.

Duncan opened the door and had a hurried conversation with whoever was outside. "Your highness, Stratos has urgent news. He says it can't wait."

Randor nodded curtly. "Excuse me, Adam," he said. "I'll be back momentarily." He left the room and practically dragged Stratos into a nearby open exam room.

"Do you have it, Stratos? Or did the Sorceress want to keep it?"

"I have it, your highness. But there is something I must tell you." Stratos looked very grave.

"Does she know where he is?" Randor asked desperately. "Does the Sorceress know how to find my son?"


	11. Threats and Retribution

**Chapter 11 Threats and Retribution**

"Not precisely. But she has narrowed it down to a –"

"Stratos, can I have the viewer now, please?" Randor asked desperately.

"Of course, your highness. But – while the Sorceress was examining it, she drew the image up and out of the thing, so that we could see it in three dimensions."

Randor stared at him. What had he seen? The usually calm and imperturbable Avion was – well, he was very nearly dithering. "Stratos, just tell me what you saw." _He's not crippled, Elders, please don't let him be crippled._ Stratos handed him the viewer, but before Randor could activate it, he started speaking.

"The false prince entered the space and made very clear threats to harm Adam. We could not hear them speaking, but he placed a hand on Adam's head and spoke to Teela." Randor took deep breaths, willing himself not to speak now that the Avion was telling his story. "She threw down her weapons, but then the villain said something that upset the prince. He shoved at the fellow, but the imposter thrust him against the wall with a spell. The Sorceress was not pleased, I can tell you. He seized Adam by the arm, the burned arm, and yanked him to his knees. I don't know for certain what he said next, but I think I can guess." The Avion's already stern expression darkened. "I believe he ordered Teela to remove her clothing."

"And that's when Adam attacked him," Randor said, grimacing.

"How did you know?" Stratos asked in surprise.

"The imposter is in that exam room with Duncan, having his wounds tended to."

"I see." Stratos bit his lip. "Young Adam fought well, but in his weakened condition he was no match for the villain. Though the rogue did not manage to land a blow on Adam," the Avion noted with evident pride in his prince. "Unfortunately, as you know, the fiend has more than physical might at his command."

Randor sank into a chair, staring up at the Avion. "What did he do? What did he do to my son?" Another thought struck him. "Or to Teela? Did he harm Teela?"

"No, Teela is well, your highness. Rest easy on that point." This was not reassuring about Adam; however, Randor managed to keep from interrupting Stratos again. "He did harm the prince, though. He placed a hand on his chest above his heart and –" The lord of Avion paused, as though unsure how to phrase his next revelation. _Spit it out, man, spit it out!_ Randor did not say. "He burned him, your highness. Very badly. Prince Adam managed to shove him off, and Teela – um – having removed her garments and covered herself, threw her clothes in the monster's face, at which point he left rapidly." Stratos took a deep breath. "Your highness, the brute seemed almost to lose control when he attacked Prince Adam. I am not altogether certain that he would have stopped had the prince not managed to strike a telling blow."

Randor buried his face in his hands. "How badly, Stratos? How serious is the burn?"

"Fairly, but he remained conscious. And he seemed to speak for some time in a very heated manner while Teela examined him and treated the injury." Randor found himself feeling very thankful that Teela was there, then castigated himself for such a selfish thought. "He did go into shock, however. But she treated that as well." The Avion put a hand on the king's shoulder. "It is nothing that will not heal, sire."

Randor sat up abruptly. "Stratos, go get the queen." The Avion nodded and started to leave, but Randor forestalled him. "Tell her to pack some things. When you go to do the research we discussed, I want you to take Marlena with you."

"I would be honored to, your highness." Stratos bowed and then left. Randor looked down at the still-dormant viewer in his hand, then tucked it resolutely in his pocket. In the next room he had access to a considerably more effective viewer, if the fellow could be persuaded to cooperate. Randor stood up, clenching his fists. He was willing to bet that he could persuade him.

Returning to the room, he shut the door and turned back to face the occupants, both of whom sat and stood in the exact positions he'd left them in. The tension in the room was thick as smoke. Addressing Duncan, he said, "His mission was partially successful." Duncan nodded. Randor turned back to the weasel. "Now, I believe we left off in the middle of your explanation of this." His gesture took in the imposter's injuries. "Have you any other injuries that are less easily seen?"

"A bruise or two that will no doubt heal on their own."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to somehow get the notion into your head that we aren't taking good enough care of you." Randor gave him an unfriendly smile. "So, do go on. You told Teela to remove her clothing?" At the cost of a great effort, Randor kept his voice calm and even, which seemed to alarm the imposter all the more.

"She might have been hiding a weapon somewhere," he exclaimed defensively.

"I believe we both understand the reasoning behind your request," Randor said. Duncan raised a brow but remained silent. "I'm not interested in your motives. Then what happened?"

"Your son attacked me. He – well, you can see what he did."

"And I have learned at some cost that you are not a man to take such without retribution. Just what form did that take?"

The imposter stiffened. "I burned him again. I think perhaps he may have learned his lesson." Randor wasn't sure what to hope for. He didn't want Adam to be so afraid that he was unable to defend himself, but on the other hand, if the cretin really did lose control, he might kill Adam without intending to. And he found himself hoping fervently that Teela would be practical. Perhaps this fellow had learned his lesson, and would do no more visiting in person.

"Is that all?" Duncan asked.

"Your daughter stripped as I asked that she do, and then I left." Duncan took one step forward, body stiff with the control he was exerting over himself. As rigid as he was, Randor was surprised that he actually moved. The weasel stood up. "I think I'll return to the royal bedchamber and rest."

"I think not," Randor said. "You are now going to show my son to me."

"You have the viewer."

"It is not sufficient to see the severity of the injury. You called up a larger image here in the infirmary, and I think you had better do so again, so that we can evaluate the wound and determine what further supplies will be required." The imposter's jaw set mutinously. Before he could refuse, Randor crossed his arms. "Duncan, do you think we need to persuade him?"

His man-at-arms eyes flashed. "I'd be delighted, sire. Just say the word."

The imposter looked across at Duncan, and he shifted nervously. "Fine." He called up the image of the cell again. Adam and Teela were both on the bed, cuddled close together spoon-style, Adam in front. His son appeared to be shivering, and it was clear that Teela was offering him body heat. The imposter opened his mouth to make some remark, but Randor fixed him with a steely look and he closed his mouth.

"Duncan, I'd say the first thing we need is more blankets." Man-at-Arms nodded. "It's impossible to see the injury at this moment." He glanced at the weasel. "I don't suppose you could make it possible for them to hear me?"

"I could," the villain said tauntingly. "But why would I want to?"

Controlling his temper with an enormous effort, Randor raised an eyebrow and turned to his friend. "Duncan, can you come up with some way to encourage this fellow to cooperate?"

Duncan gazed across at the imposter and smiled, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I can think of several methods that could prove effective."

The imposter tossed the ice bag down on the bed and glared at them both. "Very well, but be very careful what you say." He made a few gestures and spoke a couple of words. "Now go ahead."

Both Teela and Adam's heads jerked up, and the looked around for the intruder. Teela sat up, and it was suddenly obvious that she wasn't wearing anything, though she held the blanket up to shield herself from view.

"Adam, Teela, are you all right?" Randor said, his heart in his throat. Adam looked so young, so very vulnerable, and seeing Teela in that position made his blood boil with righteous anger.

Adam sat up abruptly. "Father? Are you all right? Teela said you'd collapsed!" Randor opened his mouth, but could think of no immediate response to this unexpected question. "Father? Is that you?" Adam leaned forward so eagerly that Randor wanted to reach out and put an arm on his shoulders.

"Yes, Adam, it's me. I'm fine. I was just slightly ill." Randor pursed his lips. "Adam, I –"

Adam interrupted, obviously desperate for news. "Is Cringer okay? And Mother?"

"Cringer is fine, Adam. He doesn't like where he is, and he misses you, but –"

"This is all very touching," the imposter said. Adam jerked back as if he'd been struck, and his face closed down. "But I didn't make this happen so you two could have a reunion. Boy, your father can see you at the moment. Show him the injury on your chest."

"Why?" Adam demanded, eyes wide and irate. "Father, don't do anything he says. I'm fine."

"Adam, I want to send you some medical supplies," Randor said urgently. "Please let me see what he did to you."

"No." Adam shook his head decisively. "It doesn't matter. Don't do what he says, please. Just kill the twerp and find us."

"I say one word, a single syllable, and you won't be able to see their remains without a microscope," the imposter said. His voice was quiet, but it got all their attentions.

Adam and Teela both stiffened, and Randor got an unbidden image of that room imploding with such force as to turn both of them into jelly. Duncan took a step forward. "Teela? What supplies do you need?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "Burn ointment, a few more blankets and some decent clothing would be nice. Oh, and antacids would be useful."

Adam looked irritated, but he added, "How about another chair?" An odd expression in his eyes made Randor wonder what he was thinking. "My sword might come in handy."

"Teela," Randor said. "How bad is the burn, really?"

She looked uncomfortable, like she didn't know for certain what to say. "Sire? There are two burns."

"Teela!" Adam exclaimed. "Don't!"

"One is on his arm and the other is on his chest. The one on his arm isn't too bad, but the other one is pretty serious. We'll need some bandages for that one." She pursed her lips. "And fresh bandages daily so they can be changed."

"All right. Anything else?" Man-at-Arms asked.

"Father, I don't suppose you could break both his legs for him?" Teela said.

"We'll see."

"All right, that's enough." The imposter waved a hand, dismissing the image. "Gather the things you want to send and make it quick. Bring them to Adam's room." The imposter strode to the door.

"Don't forget, Adam's still not walking all that well," Randor said a touch impatiently.

The weasel growled, but slowed his movements down in a creditable imitation of Adam's slow gait. Once the imposter was gone, Duncan, too, left immediately to gather supplies. Randor waited for Dorgan to come in so that he could have him get things for the injuries. Besides, Stratos and Marlena would be coming soon.

Randor activated the viewer. Adam and Teela were still in the bed, and it appeared that Teela was attempting to coerce Adam to lie back down. Adam seemed to be shouting in the general direction of the ceiling. Sinking into a chair, Randor watched his son, wishing there was something he could do.

* * *

"– let me talk to my father!" Adam yelled. "You rotten, manipulating –"

"Adam!" Teela roared, and he fell silent in surprise. "There's no point and you're just going to annoy him."

Adam opened his mouth, then rolled his eyes and fell back on the bed, dragging the blanket down with him. He closed his eyes rapidly, and said, "Teela, I think you'd better get dressed!"

She got out of the bed, and Adam kept his eyes closed. His burns ached, and the scratches on the back of his leg hurt and itched abominably all at once. He tried to think about something – anything else.

A moment later, or so it seemed to Adam, Teela's voice took up in the middle of a sentence. "– so I really think we should go ahead and – Adam?" He blinked and looked over at her. She was dressed in gray pajamas like his, and she was standing by the table. Had he fallen asleep? All the supplies they had were spread out across the table, like she was doing some kind of an inventory. He closed his eyes and groaned. It was Teela; she probably was. "Adam, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Teela, I just nodded off."

Clearly concerned, she came over and put her hand on his forehead again. "Your fever is rising."

Adam shuddered as a chill wracked his body. "I'm freezing," he said, his teeth chattering.

"We need those blankets," Teela said toward the ceiling, the direction from which the voices had come. "Now would be good!" She climbed over Adam and lay down with him spoon style, arranging the blanket and the quilt over them both.

"So," Adam said, trying to keep his cool, "will you tell me a story, mama?"

"A story?" Teela exclaimed. After a moment, she sighed. "All right. Once upon a time there was a dumb jerk who thought he would pretend to be someone else."

"Does this story have a happy ending?"

"Naturally!"

"Why don't you skip to the end then? Don't care about all the parts in the middle. So far it sucks." He chuckled, and winced as the burn on his chest twinged. "You might say I'm burning to know how it comes out."

"Adam!" Teela did laugh, however. Adam wished they were back at the palace, surrounded by the masters. And Orko, doing magic tricks that never worked right. He was imagining the imposter as a potted plant when he fell asleep.

* * *

"Randor, why does Stratos seem to think I'm leaving?" Marlena's voice was deceptively calm. Randor looked up apprehensively. "Especially since I wasn't aware of this fact?"

"Did he tell you what happened to Adam?"

Marlena blinked at him. "What happ – no, he didn't. What did happen to Adam?" Randor opened his mouth and was quite startled to discover that no words would come out. How could he explain – describe – what that rabid weasel had done to their son? Her eyes widened at his silence, and she took a step forward, placing a hand on his arm. "Randor? You're scaring me. What happened?"

Randor shook his to clear it. "I'm sorry, my dear. Adam – the imposter demanded that Teela undress and Adam attacked him again. Gave the weasel a black eye and split lip."

Marlena took this in stoically. "And what did the weasel do to Adam?"

"According to Stratos," Randor nodded at the Avion, "he became enraged and – and he burned Adam again, this time on the chest."

She took a deep, steadying breath. "How bad is this new burn?"

"We tried to find out, but Adam wouldn't cooperate."

"What?" she asked incredulously. "What do you mean he wouldn't cooperate?"

"Duncan and I persuaded the imposter to allow us to speak to Adam and Teela. Adam wouldn't show us the burn, he absolutely refused." Randor shook his head. "That boy – he – I –" Words failed him. Marlena took him in her arms and hugged him firmly. He bent and spoke into her ear. "My dear, you have to go with Stratos. The imposter is using you as a threat against Adam, and it's only a matter of time before he decides to use you against me."

She drew back just enough to look up into his face, her eyes startled. "He's using me as a threat against Adam?"

"To keep him from trying to escape." Randor reflected, gazing down at his queen, that if she ever really let loose of all the anger she kept bottled up, he wanted to be there to watch her demolish any and all opponents in her path. At the moment, he could practically see the invective passing through her mind. "Adam asked after you," he said.

Marlena's eyes teared, and she buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder. "That vile, evil, malignant, . . ." The rest of her words were lost against his chest.

Stratos stood against the door, his back straight, every line in his body declaring his outrage that anyone had the sheer audacity to threaten his queen. He fairly vibrated with fury. "Stratos," Randor said, "I know I can rely on you to keep her safe."

"I am honored to undertake this charge." Stratos pursed his lips. "But I have information I must pass on to you first, your highness. The Sorceress was able to determine the general region where Adam is being held. It is a large area, but it is a beginning."

Marlena broke away from Randor. "How large an area?" she asked, her voice muffled with tears.

Stratos pulled out a square of linen on which a map had been imprinted. It covered part of the Sea of Rakash and a strip of land to either side. "The Sorceress created this when she was finally able to detect Adam's presence." The Avion looked down at the map. "It was the pain she sensed, Sire. She could find no sign of him until he – until that blackguard began torturing the boy." Randor blanched, and Marlena buried her face in his chest. "I'm sorry, my king, my queen, I should not have put it so bluntly."

Marlena turned back to him, and Randor could tell she was holding to her composure with teeth and nails. "No, my good Stratos, don't apologize. I would rather hear the truth than be kept in the dark." As she gave him a pointed look, Randor shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. "I am grateful that the Sorceress has managed what she has." They both peered at the map, and Randor stared in a mixture of frustration and renewed hope at the wide expanse of the Sea of Rakash.

"Well, we know he's underwater, so this is an enormous help," Randor said. "Now we know which body of water to search."

"She apologized for the size of the area that would have to be covered." Stratos handed Randor the map. "She took Adam and Teela's plight very much to heart. I have seldom seen anyone so enraged. The imposter is fortunate she could not reach him at that moment." The Avion's expression hardened. "And that I could not."

"I understand," Randor said. "Thank you, Stratos, you have done us great service today. Now, how soon can you both be prepared to go?" Marlena set her jaw, but did not protest.

"I'll go gather a few things, and then I'll be ready," she said. "Stratos?"

"I will be ready when you are, my queen."

"Please accompany her to her chambers, Stratos, and keep watch." They drew together for a final hug, and then Marlena left, shadowed closely by the lord of Avion. Randor had rarely felt so bereft.

"All right," Dorgan said, bustling in. "Everyone who has left this room has looked grim or stricken. What happened?"

"He burned Adam again," Randor said simply.

Dorgan's face went blank. "So, have you decided how he's going to die?" he asked conversationally. "If not I've got a few suggestions."

Randor took a deep breath. "His fate will be decided in a court of law, once he has been apprehended."

The healer sank into a chair. "Somehow that doesn't seem adequate."

Randor sighed. "Well, Dorgan, what would seem appropriate? We don't deal in vengeance, we deal in justice."

"So you plan to put him in a small room for years on end with nothing to do." Dorgan gave him a malicious grin. "That seems fair."

"He'll have productive things to do. After we've worked out how to return him to his natural form."

"Do you plan on telling the full court about this? That seems fraught with problems."

Randor blinked. "You're right, Dorgan. I hadn't considered that, but telling the court that someone replaced Adam in this fashion could lead to serious doubts in the future." Shaking his head, he went on, "No, he will be tried before the masters."

"Well, as long as that's settled, is there anything we can do for Adam and Teela?"

Randor nodded. "They'll need supplies. Teela requested more burn ointment, and I think Adam is shivering."

"Show me, man."

He handed Dorgan the viewer, and the healer peered intently at it. "I can't see the wound, it's covered."

"I know, Dorgan, he wouldn't show it to me, but Teela says it's worse."

"What do you mean he wouldn't show it to you?"

"Oh, of course." Randor shook his head. "The imposter let us speak to them briefly, but Adam – that boy is so stubborn."

"Really?" Dorgan sputtered with wry laughter. "I wonder where he gets that particular trait? Do you suppose it could come from your side of the family? No, I shouldn't think so, after all, you're such a reasonable man."

"I am reasonable."

"Not about your health, you're not. Both of you are a terrible patients."

"Adam was a good patient, Dorgan. He was very cooperative, and he never complained."

"If he never complains, I never know what's wrong."

"Dorgan, you would object if everyone was doing exactly what you told them to."

The old healer snorted. "Regardless, that much self-control in a boy his age is alarming. I don't think you realized just how unusual his behavior was. Teela was in a temper within the first day, or very nearly."

"Adam's just sweet-natured."

"No one's that sweet-natured, Randor. He's not a saint. Sometimes I think that boy's more reserved than you are."

"Adam? Reserved?" Randor raised an incredulous brow. "He's so gregarious. He's always talking to someone, surrounded by his friends. Or helping someone else with some problem."

"That's just feckless youth, Randor. You were just the same, all blithe good humor on the surface, and your other emotions buried down deep." Dorgan shrugged. "He listens to other people's problems, but I've never heard him expressing his own."

"He talks to Duncan about his problems," Randor said bitterly.

"So do you," Dorgan pointed out. "Duncan is safe, and he's moderately wise for his age. And he tends to underreact, which helps to make your problems seem less unmanageable."

"I don't make problems seem unmanageable!" Randor protested.

Dorgan raised an eyebrow. "How many of your problems did you share with your father at his age? I know I didn't. And none of my sons did either. It's a bad age for fathers and sons. It will pass eventually."

"Will it?" Randor sighed, reflecting on his relationship with his own father. "I don't know, Dorgan." Irritation with his descent into self-pity galled him suddenly and he crossed his arms tensely. "But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting them the supplies they need."

The door opened and Duncan strode in, carrying a small satchel and several warm blankets. "I've got some of Teela's personal things in here," he said. "Have you gathered the medical supplies they'll need?"

Wasting no more time, Dorgan, Randor and Duncan put together a compact but thorough medical kit. None of them wanted to provide the imposter with any reason to return to the prison.

Duncan gazed at the neat little box of supplies, and said, "You know, Dorgan, I think this might be an excellent kit to carry in the wind raiders and other field vehicles."

"I suppose it does have more in it than the ones you have now. I'll have some made up."

Randor picked up the box of supplies, the satchel and the blankets. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

Duncan turned with a stern and forbidding expression. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"To give these things to the weasel so he can pass them along."

"I'll deliver them," Duncan said firmly, reaching out to take them from him.

"No, Duncan, you won't." Randor did not release the items. "I've had the most contact with him, and I think I am better suited to handling this situ –"

"Yes, I know you've had more contact!" Duncan expostulated. "If you think I'm going to allow you to face that villain alone when he's already attacked you once, you –"

"It's my responsibility, Duncan, and I will not shirk it!"

"Why don't you both go?" Dorgan said mildly. "There's safety in numbers, surely."

Randor exchanged a glance with Duncan, whose surly expression matched his feelings exactly. Man-at-Arms rolled his eyes heavenward. "What do you suppose people are going to think when they see us walking through the halls with a couple of parcels and a stack of blankets?"

"That you're moving in with me?" Randor suggested. "It wouldn't even seem that odd, since Marlena is leaving shortly."

"All right," Duncan said. "I think that's an excellent notion."

"What?" Randor exclaimed. "I was joking."

"I wasn't. And it would probably reassure Marlena."

"To know that you were babysitting me? I don't think I need a nanny, Duncan."

"I disagree," Dorgan said sharply. "I think both of you need nannies. Unfortunately, I'm busy, so you'll have to do for each other." They leveled identical glares at the healer. "Well, you two haven't changed much since you were boys. Run along, I've got work to do."

Randor and Duncan left the infirmary together. "That healer is an irritant," Duncan said. "But he's the best healer in Eternia."

"Or anywhere else, I'd wager," Randor agreed.

They walked in silence through the halls to Adam's room. When they arrived, Randor raised a hand to knock. Duncan reached out and opened the door. As they entered, they could see that the imposter had been exploring. One of the boxes that had carried Adam's private things from the tower room to the infirmary and back here was wide open, and the duplicate was taking things out with an amused expression.

"Ah, have you brought your little care package?" he said, looking up from a stuffed pig that Adam's mother had given him when he was three. It was battered and worn from years of hard use, but there were clear signs that it had been inexpertly repaired at various points in the past. Randor thought one of those had occurred within the last two months. "Isn't this sweet?" the imposter drawled, tossing it over his shoulder where it landed in a pile of similar objects.

"What are you doing?" Duncan demanded, irate. "There is no need for this!"

"I was looking for a diary, actually. Your prince has a tiresome number of friends and acquaintances. I thought it might help me keep track."

Randor reached down and snatched the box out of the imposter's grasp. He began stuffing Adam's things back into it. "You should have considered that in advance of taking your hostages," he snapped.

"It wasn't supposed to take this long!" the imposter declared. "That mechanic's reputation far exceeds his actual skills as far as I can see. I've been to see my machine, and it isn't even half completed!"

"You're the one who insisted on elpinar. Do you have any notion how hard that is to find?"

"The Olancans have an idol made of it. You should just go there and take it. Surely that would be enough!"

Randor glared at him. "Oh, yes, starting a war would be very helpful. If we were at war, Duncan would have no time for your machine."

"Oh no? For your prince and his little girl he wouldn't make time?" The imposter smiled insincerely at them both. "If that's the case, then perhaps I've taken the wrong hostages." He tilted his head impudently. "Perhaps I should start over? I could seize your lovely wife."

"Stay away from the queen, you rotten –" With a visible effort, Duncan bit his words off.

The imposter raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe I should have skipped straight to the top and taken you, Randor. I suspect your mechanic would do anything to get you back."

Randor put a restraining hand on Duncan's arm as his man-at-arms lunged forward. "No, Duncan, don't give him the satisfaction." As he turned back to face the imposter, Randor saw that he was prepared for an attack. One hand was upraised, and there was a shimmer of heat before it. He suppressed a shudder, and tightened his grip on Duncan.

"I'd like to point out," Randor grated, "that he won't make any headway on your machine if you damage him."

"It doesn't have to be him. It doesn't even have to be you. I'm sure you would both prefer for that charming girl's skin to remain unblemished."

Randor stood up straighter, not releasing his friend. "If you lay one violent finger on that girl, I will kill you myself, and take my chances on finding them."

The weasel's eyes grew confused. "Surely she's not your bastard? Or, you two don't plan on marrying them later? Is she the next queen of Eternia? You certainly throw them together often enough."

"They're old friends!" Duncan growled.

"We are getting far off the point. We have brought the supplies for you to send them."

"Indeed we are. Well, I shall simply have to take them to –"

Randor felt compelled to interrupt. "This isn't that large. Can't you just send it, the way you send the food?"

The imposter burst out laughing. "Of course I can! I just wanted to make you jump."

Duncan tensed behind him, but Randor just gave the double a bland look. "Well, you got what you wanted. Please send these supplies to them immediately."

"Let me see what's here, first." He opened the box and glanced at the medical supplies. "Looks fairly harmless." He flipped the folded blankets open and looked at both sides. Then he lifted the satchel. "What's in here?"

"Teela's things," Duncan said through clenched teeth. "There's nothing dangerous in there."

"That girl owns something that's not dangerous? I'm amazed." Opening the satchel, he began pulling things out and placing the on the bed. "A brush, shampoo, toothbrush, other toiletries. Hmmm. . .a clock?"

"She needs to know what time it is so she can properly dose Prince Adam. Some of those medications have fairly rigorous time schedules."

"I see. A novel? Does she read? I thought her quite the barbarian. An economics text? 'I'll be quizzing you both on chapters 12 through 17 when you get back.'" He tilted his head incredulously at Duncan. "That's awfully stringent. What, do they read really fast or are you expecting them to be there another month."

Duncan was regaining his self-control a bit. He shrugged. "Another two weeks at the least." When the weasel started to sputter, Duncan shook his head. "Elpinar is rare, and this isn't the best time of year to be searching for it. It's found at high elevations, and the snows have begun up there."

"So I'm going to have to listen to that plate-headed moron babble at me for another two weeks?" the imposter demanded.

"At least," Duncan said dryly.

"Ram-Man is very fond of Adam," Randor said sternly. "Very fond indeed."

"Are you suggesting that I should make nice with the idiot, or is that a threat?"

"It's merely an observation of fact," Randor replied. "Surely you've recognized what all these scores of friends that annoy you so much mean?"

The imposter shrugged. "He's rich."

Randor's jaw dropped, and he stared in stunned amazement at the imbecilic weasel who stood before him. "He's rich?" he said slowly, offended to the core of his being. "You think Adam has many friends because he's rich?"

"And one day he will be king. Such men always have hangers-on. It's part of the territory. I hadn't expected them to know him so well, I must admit."

Randor shook his head, as Man-at-Arms started to speak. "Never mind, Duncan, he doesn't understand."

The imposter smiled condescendingly at them, then returned to sorting through the satchel. "What's this?" he asked, holding up a little cloth bag. Duncan hid a smile. "What is this?" he demanded again.

Randor wasn't quite sure – he had an idea, but. . .

"It's a female thing," Duncan said.

"A what?"

"Are you married?" Randor asked curiously.

"No," the fellow replied, taken aback.

"Sisters?" Duncan asked.

"No! What are you on – oh, you mean that kind of –" He shoved the bag back in the satchel without looking at it again. Something crackled. He drew out a letter. "Oh, look, another saccharine missive." He unfolded it and scanned the contents. "You're not sappy at all. This is practically a to do list! A good to do list, but I still think it's rather – harsh. You people are very harsh on your children."

"You burned my son! Twice!"

The fellow gave him an odd look. "It's not the same thing at all. I'm not related."

"Thank the Elders!" Randor said prayerfully.

"I think this audience is done," the imposter said coldly.

Duncan took Randor's arm and steered him out without letting him speak further to the doppelganger. "Fine," Duncan said. "We'll be watching."

They went hurriedly to Randor's study and pulled out the viewer. Adam was laying in the bed, covered up to his chin, head propped up on the pillow against the wall. Teela sat on the chair, her feet on the bed, with a book open on her lap. Several other books lay within easy reach, and they were clearly discussing something earnestly.

Once again, Adam noticed a change in the room before anyone else did. He struggled to a sitting position, his eyes widening as he looked at a spot in the air past Teela's head. Teela dropped the book to the floor and seemed to be remonstrating with him, but Adam pointed and she turned.

The golden oval of a portal was appearing, and the weasel stepped through it. "He said he wasn't going to go!" Man-at-Arms exclaimed.

"No, he said he didn't have to go," Randor said sourly.


	12. Errors in Judgment

**Chapter 12 Errors in Judgment**

Teela stood up and turned to face Adam's double, taking up a protective stance. Adam kicked the blankets aside, not wanting to be hindered by their constraining presence. He tried unsuccessfully to control the shivers that coursed through him; he wanted to be on his feet if the imposter decided to get violent again.

Several blankets, Adam's pillows, a box and a bag floated into the room and settled on the table. The portal winked out.

"What do you want?" Teela asked belligerently. Adam gazed in delight at the evidence of his attack on the imposter's face.

"That's gratitude for you," the imposter said to Teela. "I'm bringing you some presents from your daddy."

"When you brought my father's presents, you burned me," Adam retorted.

"You attacked me, boy. I was merely defending myself."

"You burned him _iafter/i _he attacked you! That's not self-defense."

The imposter smiled at her contemptuously. "I'm in charge, I get to define terms."

"Oooh!" Adam exclaimed ironically. "Impressive!"

* * *

"Randor, I would swear your son is trying to get himself killed!" Duncan expostulated. "We are going to have a talk with him when he gets back about antagonizing dangerous criminals!"

"Duncan, he's sixteen. He thinks he's immortal."

"That's not reassuring; Teela's sixteen, too!"

* * *

"Are you aiming for a collection of handprints, boy?"

"Adam!" Teela reproached. "Lie back down and cover up!" She turned around and forced Adam back down on the bed. Adam groused, but he didn't really have the strength to fight her. When the imposter suddenly appeared over her shoulder, however, Adam pushed her away.

"Teela, look out!" Adrenalin temporarily increased his strength, and Teela bounced against the wall.

The doppelganger had both hands raised – he had been about to place them on Teela's shoulders – and he looked down at Adam with his lips twitching. "Just a tad of an overreaction, boy. I wasn't going to hurt your little girlfriend, I –"

Almost at the same moment, Teela and Adam snapped back at him. "I am not his girlfriend!" "She is not my girlfriend!"

The fellow raised his eyebrows in mock alarm. "Well, I see. So, boy, just how sick are you?"

"I'm fine!" Adam declared, pulling the blankets back and starting to stand up.

"Adam, no!" Teela glared at the imposter. "He's shocky, and he needs the attentions of a real healer!"

"Well, those he can't have – unless you want more company. I can think of a healer back at the palace that I wouldn't mind exiling."

By sheer force of will, Adam got to his feet. The imposter took a step back as Adam stood. "No one else. You will send no one else here. It's bad enough you've stuck Teela here. And if people start disappearing from the palace like that, the masters are bound to notice."

"The masters are all away from the palace just now, collecting materials for my device. All except Ram-Man and that nosy Mekanaman or whatever his name is."

"What?" Adam demanded. "Are you insane? Were you planning on sending Skeletor engraved invitations, too?"

"Oh, I'm sure that if Skeletor attacks, that He-Man person will show up and save the day. He always seems to."

Adam rolled his eyes. "He's away again. If Skeletor shows up to kidnap me again, you're on your own." The imposter actually looked worried at that.

"What?" he faltered. "That's not at all likely, is it?" His voice gaining strength, he shook his head firmly, though he still looked uneasy. "No, old boneface won't come after you for awhile now. That failure is too fresh in his mind."

"You just keep telling yourself that," Adam said. "It'll probably be reassuring right up until your two inches from Tri-Klops or Beastman – and, boy, is that a smell!"

* * *

"What is he saying?" Duncan exclaimed, peering closer.

"I don't know. If Dorgan were here, he could translate, but unlike our revered healer, I don't read lips."

"Well, he's got that imposter looking very nervous."

"I can see that. And Teela just looks amused."

"Why can't our children behave?"

* * *

Adam was enjoying the uneasy look the imposter had on his face. "– and Evil-Lyn, and Trap Jaw. . . Oh, be careful of that clamp hand of his. I think he crunched a couple of things when he grabbed me at Snake Mountain."

The duplicate's eyes flashed and he took a step toward Adam. "That's enough, boy!" He looked Adam up and down. "You're shaking, and somehow I don't think it's fear. You're too stupid for fear. Your face is flushed, you're sweating. Why don't you sit down?"

"Gee, I didn't know you cared," Adam said dryly. "I think I'd rather stand."

The imposter shot a hand out and shoved Adam sharply backwards. Losing his balance, he fell onto the bed. Teela surged forward to grab the imposter's hands. "Don't touch him!" she cried angrily. The imposter jerked one hand free and grabbed Teela's wrist.

Adam, afraid that he would attack Teela for laying hands on him, stood up again. "Don't you hurt her!" he commanded, grabbing for the imposter's free hand.

"Oh for the love of –" The imposter reached out his hand toward Adam's head, Adam felt a faint surge of something, and nothing else.

* * *

Duncan and Randor watched in silence as Adam fell to the bed. Teela released the imposter's hands and the fellow hastily made a portal. He tossed some remark over his shoulder and then left while Teela bent over the still form of the prince.

"Is he –" Randor quavered, eyes focused on his unmoving child. "He can't be –"

"I don't think he's dead, Randor. Teela's not – there, she's sitting back. She doesn't seem all that worried."

Randor nodded, relieved. If there had been something seriously wrong, Teela would be upset. "Why does Adam insist on antagonizing the weasel? Why can't he just – just –"

"Because he is who he is."

Teela straightened Adam's body on the bed and carefully covered him up with all the blankets, including the new ones. She stood over him, hands on her hips, shaking her head in exasperation. Adam had to be all right, or she wouldn't be behaving as she was. Randor sighed in relief, and sympathized with her obvious frustration.

"I'd better get back to work," Duncan said abruptly. "Who knows what he'll do if he gets the feeling I'm slacking off." Randor nodded without speaking or looking up. "Randor?" Irritated, he lifted his eyes to his friend's. His expression must have worried Duncan, for he said, "My friend, you can't watch them all day. It's not good for you."

"I have to know what's going on, Duncan." Randor shook his head at the concern in Duncan's eyes. "I hated having to drag that story out of the imposter. If Stratos hadn't shown up, I might have – I don't know what I would have done." Randor closed his eyes. "Stratos and the Sorceress watched that torture, by the way." Duncan's face went very blank, and his body stiffened. "I would rather have spared them that, but, according to Stratos, the pain enabled her to get a general fix on their location."

The man-at-arms' eyes widened, and he took a step toward him. "What? She got a fix on their location? Why didn't you tell me?"

Randor blinked, suddenly realizing that he hadn't told Duncan that yet. "Oh, Duncan, I'm so sorry. So much has been happening, I forgot who I'd told what!" He fumbled in his pocket for the map Stratos had left with him. "Apparently, they're somewhere in the Sea of Rakash."

Duncan gazed on the square of linen, his eyes absorbing the image with an almost frightening intensity. "That's where Merman dwells," he said in a quietly forceful voice. "That sea is his home, and he knows it like the back of his hand."

"Are you suggesting that he's the weasel's confederate?"

"No, I'm suggesting that he might find them first!"

This was such an appalling suggestion that it floored Randor. He stared down at where Teela was doing calisthenics. While he watched, she stopped and went to the head of the bed to check on Adam. "No – no he couldn't. We can't let him."

Duncan's entire concentration had turned inward; Randor could tell he was thinking as hard as he ever had. "I'll come up with something," he said absently, and left the study. Randor watched him go, thanking the Elders that he'd been blessed with so brilliant a friend. _Think hard, Duncan, think hard._

Man-at-Arms' disturbing suggestion had done nothing toward encouraging Randor not to watch the viewer constantly, quite the reverse. He sat in the study staring at them as Teela settled down on the floor at the head of the bed with a book and started to read, pausing frequently to check Adam's condition. She didn't turn the page for quite a long time, and Randor doubted that she was getting much out of her reading. Thus far she had ignored the recently delivered packages, except for the blankets. He wondered when she would –

The door slammed open and the imposter walked in, slowly, like the invalid he was pretending to be. After closing the door behind him, he dropped the pretense and marched over to stand at the other side of the table from Randor. "Where is the queen?" he demanded angrily. "I just heard from one of the palace servants that she left with your pet bird!"

Randor looked up at him as calmly as he could. "She went to Avion for a state visit. I was supposed to go myself, but that seemed out of the question under the circumstances."

"I heard nothing about a state visit," the imposter said irately. "Surely the heir to the throne would have heard about a state visit."

"Actually, Adam's always complaining that we forget to tell him things." Randor shrugged. "He's not always the most reliable boy, and we tend to leave him out of things on occasion. Frankly, he's not usually interested." Randor sent silent apologies to his son. He found bad-mouthing him this way before his double to be unbelievably distasteful. He hated to imagine what Adam would think if he could hear him, and he suddenly prayed that the imposter wouldn't share this conversation with him.

"But I'm not Adam. You should have given me advance warning of such a plan." He studied Randor through narrowed eyes. "I guess you haven't learned your lesson after all."

"What now?" Randor asked, standing up. "Do you give me a new handprint? Make me match my son?"

"It's a thought," the imposter snapped.

Randor skinned out of his shirt and folded it neatly, placing it on the table as he walked around to stand before the imposter, who stared at him in befuddled vexation. "Well, aren't you going to –"

Apparently he'd pushed the weasel farther than he thought he had, for he found himself flying through the air. Slamming against the wall between the windows knocked the breath out of him and made his vision go black for a moment. He slid down to the floor, fighting to stay conscious. This was going to thrill Duncan when he found out about it.

Assuming that he lived long enough tell him. The fellow loomed over him, seeming taller than Adam's height from Randor's unaccustomed perspective. "Don't make fun of me, old man," he said in icy tones. "I don't like it."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Randor said, blinking his eyes to straighten out his vision. "I was cooperating."

"Oh, of course." Bending, he seized Randor by the forearm and jerked him forward. Randor hissed as he felt the blisters pop, and he fell heavily on his hands and knees. His bad knee shrieked in protest. He was filled with the urge to grab the imposter and throttle him, but he didn't dare give in to it, not while Adam and Teela lay within his control. He was shaking his head and trying to stand when he felt an extraordinarily warm hand on his back. Randor froze. Dared he try to get away, or would that merely enrage the fellow further?

Pressure on his back forced him to the floor; it felt almost as if the fellow were kneeling on him, but Randor could see the double's legs to the side of his body. More magic, no doubt. An all too familiar sensation of searing heat built up under the weasel's hand. Randor had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from screaming, and his head ached from his clenched jaw. The pain passed into the realm of unendurable. Randor's existence narrowed briefly to the agony of the burning skin. When he came to himself again, the imposter had released the pressure him holding him to the floor. The weasel stood up and walked to the doorway. "Keep me informed from now on, _Father_. I'm certain that you can guess which things I will want to know." He opened the door, and Randor heard footsteps in the hall.

Randor heard Duncan's voice as he greeted the imposter. "Hello, _Adam_."

"You might want to give him a few minutes, Duncan. He's not really up to visitors right now, I don't think." He could hear the smirk in the fellow's voice and cursed him for it. He tried to push himself into a sitting position, but only succeeded in getting back onto his hands and knees before he fell flat again, nausea and pain almost overwhelming him.

"Randor!" Duncan cried. He activated his comlink. "Dorgan, to the king's study, stat." The king heard the door close, and then Duncan fell to his knees beside him. "Randor, what happened?"

"What do you think?" Randor asked through gritted teeth. Speaking caused his body to move in ways that hurt. "I told him she'd gone on a state visit, and this was his response. I'm glad I sent her away." Duncan sat as if stunned, staring down at him. Randor tried to raise his head to look at him, but the world spun. He held tightly to consciousness. "Don't tell Marlena. There's nothing she could do. It would only upset her."

"Randor, I can't promise that," Duncan said. "I –"

"Don't tell her, Duncan!"

The door opened again, and Dorgan ran in, shutting it swiftly behind him. He was silent for a moment, then he said in dead sort of voice. "This can't go on, Duncan. It can't. He won't have any skin left."

"It won't. I'm going to go –"

"No, Duncan!" Randor growled. "You can't endanger Adam and Teela!"

"I can't let him go on burning you every time he gets irritated, either."

"I'll be fine." Randor tried again to drag himself to his feet, but Dorgan forestalled him. He felt a prick in his arm, and an inflow of something cold, and the world went dark.

* * *

Adam awoke to the sound of Teela snoring. She was flat on the floor, her head on one of the pillows that the imposter had brought with his last visit, sleeping like a baby. However, she wasn't covered up, as she had put all the blankets they had on him. He sat up and stretched, then winced at the twinging of his burns. He felt a great deal better, but he didn't remember going to sleep. There was food on the table, spare ribs, peas and some kind of vegetable casserole. Was it lunch? Or dinner? Adam wasn't sure. How long had he slept?

A memory came to him unbidden, and the image of the imposter's hand coming toward his face gave Adam pause. Catching his breath sharply with alarm, he abruptly remembered the fellow grabbing Teela. Grimacing at his weakness and the tenderness of the cat scratches on his thigh, he got up and knelt down beside her. He picked up her wrists and started to look for signs of injury.

Then he landed on his rear as she shoved him away, coming awake all at once. She rolled to her feet, ready for action. "Teela, it was just me!"

"Adam?" Teela stood up, and gazed down at him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, barring a bruise or two on my behind. What about you?"

She looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean? I'm not hurt."

"He grabbed you, I thought he might have –" Adam shuddered. He couldn't bring himself to say it. _I thought he might have burned you._

"Well, he didn't. He just knocked you out and left." She put out a hand to him, her left to grab his uninjured right. He took it and she helped him to his feet. "Sit down. Are you feeling all right?" She checked his temperature with the back of her hand.

"I'm fine, Teela, I feel a lot better." He walked over and looked at the steaming food on the table. "Typical. Two plates, but still only one chair."

"Suits me," Teela said. She picked up a plate and sat down on the floor. Adam, who'd been about to yield the chair to her as the lady present, shrugged and sat down. "What did he bring with him besides the bedding?"

"Medical supplies and toiletries it looks like. I didn't really look that closely."

Adam picked up a rib and walked over to the box. Teela was applying herself to her food with gusto. Adam wasn't very hungry, but he gnawed on the rib bone anyway, knowing that he'd better eat.

He opened the satchel that lay next to the box. "Oh, I guess someone got your stuff together for you. I don't use these," he said, holding up a little bundle of hair ties. "What else is in here?" He pulled out the usual sort of objects and a little bag that he'd seen Teela pack on camping expeditions. She'd always seemed kind of defensive about it, so he just set it aside without mentioning it. "Hey, Teela, there are a couple of letters in here."

She looked up. Setting her plate aside, she walked over. "Let me see those." Glancing at both of them, she handed one to him. "This one's for you."

Adam snatched it eagerly – had his father written another letter? Maybe there was news about his mother or Cringer.

Dear Adam,

Quit antagonizing him! Don't allow yourself to dwell on the situation. We'll get you out. Enough said.

Duncan

"Oh," he muttered, disappointed. "It's from Man-at-Arms." He glanced at the ceiling, wondering just how much they'd been able to see of what had been going on here. He leaned over Teela's shoulder. "What does yours say?"

Contrary to his expectations, she didn't hide it from him. She handed it to him, saying, "At least _my _father doesn't sound like he's trying to say good-bye."

Adam gave her a puzzled look. Then he realized what she must mean. "You read my letter!"

She gave an embarrassed shrug. "It was out on the table that first day, and I was trying to find out what I could about what was going on." Adam was speechless and hurt that she hadn't told him before this. Unable to come up with a sufficiently stinging reply, he looked at her letter.

Dear Teela,

We will get you out of there. Don't worry about that. Now, do not antagonize the weasel who is holding you. Do not attack him. Do not allow Adam to antagonize or attack him. Take care of yourself, take care of Adam. Study. Everything will be fine, but it may take a few weeks to bring you home. I will do my best to speed things up. I love you.

Your Father

A few weeks? Adam looked up at Teela, stunned. "A few weeks?" he asked aloud. "We'll kill each other if we're stuck in here alone for a few weeks."

Teela shrugged fatalistically. "There's nothing we can do about it, though, so there's no point in worrying about it. We'll just have to give each other what space we can." She glanced over at the chamberpot. "Starting right now. Could you turn around?"

Reddening, Adam turned his back on her and tried not to hear anything. He picked up his comb off the chest in the corner and started to comb his hair. It was disgusting. He hadn't been able to wash it since he'd arrived, and though he could tell that Teela had bathed him – and he didn't want to think about that too closely – she obviously hadn't washed his hair.

"Okay," she called. He turned around.

"Where's that basin?" he asked. She pointed, and he looked at it.

"You want to wash your hair, don't you?" she asked.

"Um, yeah."

"Well, you've got to be careful of your arm. Let me help you." She poured the water over his head for him, and between them they got his hair clean. "This guy doesn't seem to have planned very far ahead, does he?" she commented, pouring the soapy water into the chamberpot where it magically vanished. "I mean, no towels."

"Count your blessings. For the first three days all the water I had was one glass that came with my meals."

"You're kidding!" She shook her head at the thought. "No wonder you reeked."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks, Teela. You're a joy to have around." She opened her mouth as though to apologize, but he grimaced and shrugged. "No, I know I did."

"So, what are we going to do now?" she wondered aloud.

"Well, I've had some interesting thoughts about the Pelian war that I wanted to talk to you about."

"Really?" She gave him a surprised look. "You haven't wanted to talk about that in awhile."

He shrugged. "Since coming here, I haven't had much else that I wanted to think about."

"Okay, fine. Eat your dinner and tell me about it."

"I'm not really hungry."

Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip apologetically. "I think I know why. I gave you some glop before I lay down for a nap."

"Glop?" he asked in chagrin. "How much of that did they send?"

"Quite a lot in that first care package. I think they were expecting you to be sick. Those scratches were pretty bad, and that poison –" She shuddered.

"Well, I really am feeling better," he said. He blinked and yawned broadly. His energy was fading. "But I'm getting tired again."

"Burns take a lot of energy to heal. And then there's everything else on top of it. Why don't you lie down again, and –"

"I feel like I've spent the last two days asleep," he complained.

"Not quite the last two days, more like the last day and a half. You should listen to my father," she added, pointing to the note. Adam sighed. He knew he should, but he couldn't stand the rotten duplicate pain in the neck. And the thought that he was pretending to be him back at the palace made him want to –

"Teela! Has he been losing his temper at the palace, do you suppose? What if he hurts someone?"

"Adam, there's nothing we can –"

Adam shook his head in frustration at her denseness. "He looks like me, Teela! If he hurts someone, people will think it's me who did it."

"Oh," she said, looking dismayed. "I hadn't thought about that." Adam groaned. "We'll work that out when we get back home." She looked at his worried face. "Come on, Adam, what did you think of about the Pelian wars? And even if you don't want to sleep, at least sit on the bed, Adam."

Sighing, Adam did as she asked, and started to delineate his ideas. Teela started asking really stupid questions. He knew she was trying to jockey him out of his dark mood, but he went along with it, sort of hoping it would work. Soon she was sitting on the chair by the bed, and their heads were close together as they looked through books.

* * *

Randor woke up lying on his stomach. His back was aching and he had no idea what time it was. He rolled over on to his side and sat up. The infirmary room he was in was very dark, but there was light under the door. He stood up very gingerly, being careful both of his back and of his head, walked over to the door and opened it. The infirmary was all but deserted, and all of the windows were dark. Dorgan sat at a table playing solitaire.

"How long was I asleep, Dorgan?"

The healer looked up, his eyes shadowed. "How are you feeling, Randor?"

"Well, my back hurts, my arm hurts, and my head hurts."

"You were out longer than you should have been." Dorgan's weary face was a mask of guilt. "I didn't know you'd hit your head. You had a concussion and I sedated you."

"What happened?"

"You went into a fairly severe shock. Fortunately, we realized what happened in time." He sighed deeply. "You started reacting atypically once you were in the infirmary, and Jonis examined you. He found the knot on the back of your head –"

"Jonis?" Randor exclaimed. "But – no one is supposed to know!"

"All he and the other two healers who were working on you know is that you were injured by an unknown assailant and that I screwed up. Badly."

"Dorgan, don't be so hard on yourself."

"I nearly killed you, Randor," Dorgan said, his voice harsh. "I'm _not_ being too hard on myself." His brows knit. "You should be sitting down, your highness." Randor nodded, and walked over to the chair next to Dorgan's.

"Well, Dorgan, it sounds like we're both doing wonderfully well. I allowed my son to get abducted out of my own palace – out of his own room – twice in a three month span. And now I have an imposter living in the palace, doing as he pleases."

"I have been contemplating a solution to that very problem, Randor. I think you need to go have a serious conversation with that man, here, in company with Duncan and me."

"You? He can't know that –"

"After what just happened, if he thinks your chief healer would be ignorant that something was seriously wrong, he's stupider than I think he is." Dorgan shook his head. "He needs to understand that he cannot keep injuring you both in this way. It will not benefit his cause."

"The only one of us he needs whole is Duncan," Randor said sourly.

"That reminds me," Dorgan said, getting up and crossing the room to the door. He stuck his head out and spoke to the guard outside. Turning back to Randor, he said, "Man-at-Arms asked me to send for him when you woke up."

Randor folded his arms on the table and leaned heavily on them. His newest injuries pained him as he shifted, but he didn't think there were many positions that wouldn't cause him discomfort. The burn between his shoulder blades seemed to be attached to every muscle in his body. He studied the skin on the back of his hands, unable to lift his eyes. This would not be a pleasant interview. Dorgan sat down next to him and gripped his upper arm reassuringly. "He can't know you know, Dorgan. I can't take the risk that he'll cripple Adam."

"At the rate he's going, neither of you will be in very good shape. And you said it yourself, Randor. The only one of you he needs whole is Duncan." Randor didn't know how to respond to the truth of this. "Let me put it to you another way. What if he lets his irritation out on some random member of the court? He's already attacked Mekanek." Randor swallowed convulsively. He had been trying to avoid that possibility, trying to draw the fellow's attention to himself.

"You're right," Randor said, gritting his teeth. "Obviously I haven't been doing enough to keep his annoyance focused on me and only me."

"Are you out of your mind?" Dorgan demanded forcefully. "That's not a solution! And he seems to regard Adam as an extension of you." The healer stood up explosively and walked across to the wall opposite the king. "How better to hurt you than to hurt your only child? And what makes you think he'll leave either you or Adam alive at the end of this?"

Randor sat up straight, wincing slightly. "By the Elders, I didn't – I haven't –" It was true. Everything he'd done to one of them thus far, leaving the jungle cat aside, he'd done to the other.

"We've none of us been thinking straight, sire." Dorgan raised his eyes heavenward and leaned back against the wall. "What alarms me most is the escalation he's displaying. And how little it's beginning to take to set him off. You didn't lay hands on him, did you?"

Randor shook his head. "He seemed to think I was taunting him. But he wasn't actually –" Randor shuddered. "He wasn't punishing me for that. I didn't tell him that Marlena would be away, and he found that irritating."

Dorgan blinked a few times. "I see. So, to his mind, a severe burn is just return for being left out of the loop. This monster really needs to die."

"I agree, Dorgan, he needs to be dealt with. But while he has Adam and Teela –"

"Have you got anyone searching for them yet?"

Randor sighed and shook his head. "I haven't dared launch a search. Besides, until recently we had not even the vaguest hint of where they might be."

The door opened abruptly, causing Randor's entire body to tense. It was only Duncan, but he had difficulty forcing himself to relax again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his gut. The bottom had dropped out of his stomach at the mere thought that the imposter might be entering the room. He closed his eyes, willing his muscles to loosen. Then Duncan closed the door and the sound of the latch caused him to stiffen again. This had to stop.

Observant as always, Duncan walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Randor, are you all right?"

Randor took another deep breath, exhaling very slowly, ignoring the twinge in his back brought on by Duncan's touch. "I'm fine, Duncan. Have you been watching them?"

"Yes." Without being asked or making any comment, Duncan handed the viewer to him. Turning a chair around backwards, he sat down across it, clasping his hands together over the back. Randor looked down at the image in the magical object. Both of their children were sound asleep, once more spooning together, no doubt for comfort as well as warmth.

"It's been quiet there all day. He's made no move on them since –" He gestured at Randor's injury.

Randor concentrated on keeping his breathing even. "Good."

"I have a plan, sire. I think I know who we can send to look for them."

Hopeful words at last! Randor leaned forward. "Indeed, Duncan? What do you suggest?"

Instead of answering immediately, Man-at-Arms turned to Dorgan and said, "How long do we realistically have?"

"He'll go nose first into the table in about an hour."

"That long?"

"I thought we needed the time."

"What are you two talking about?" Randor demanded.

"You have been severely injured, sire. You have great stamina, but it's been eroded by the repeated attacks and the stress you've been under. I've given you some stimulants – carefully chosen not to interact badly with the concussion. But your energy will give out before long, so we'd best concentrate on our plans."

"How long will I sleep when this wears off?" Randor asked dubiously.

"A good piece of tomorrow, I should think," Dorgan said thoughtfully. "And you've had enough painkillers to stop a horse."

"That's unacceptable." Dorgan's eyes widened at his tone. "I can't afford to be out for that long during this crisis. I can collapse when this is over. Right now, I have to be able to function. Is there anything you can do for me, Dorgan?"

"Randor, you have to sleep," Duncan protested. "If you –"

"I plan to, Duncan. But not all day. Wake me at seven. No later."

The healer and the man-at-arms exchanged a worried look, but Dorgan only said, "Yes, sire."

"Now, Duncan, what is your plan?"

"Randor, can't we persuade you to sleep longer –"

"No, Man-at-Arms," Randor said flatly. "Tell me your plan."

Duncan stiffened at the assumption of kingly authority, but nodded. "I propose we send for Man-E-Faces to return at once. He should be back with the dendromine any time now in any case. Then we send him with two of the palace guard, Raon and Jeffrin by preference, to search the Sea of Rakash."

"Have you got the equipment prepared?"

"I do."

"And have you already sent for Manny?"

Duncan gave him a wry smile. "I have."

Randor nodded. "Glad to see you're keeping on top of things."

"They should take a medic as well," Dorgan said. "To look after Adam and take care of any injuries that might crop up."

"Do you have anyone in mind?" Randor asked.

"Sevedra," Dorgan said decisively. "She's unflappable and is an expert in trauma. And she's already partially in on the secret, which clears one possible leak out of the capital."

"It looks like you two already have things well in hand," Randor said, pleased to hear that they had been busy while he lay unconscious.

"Good, then you can sleep longer," Duncan said persuasively.

Randor gave Duncan a mildly hostile look. "No, I can't," he said firmly. "There are decisions that only I can make."

"We'll wake you if one of those comes up."

Dorgan nodded. "Yeah, like if you want fruit with your waffles."

"Both of you, stop. I'm not going to give in on this."

Duncan gave him a look that said they weren't through, but Randor ignored it. "Have you spoken to Raon and Jeffrin yet?"

"No. I thought I'd best discuss it with you first." He shrugged. "They should be waiting outside by now, though. And I expect Manny's there, too."

"He's already here?"

Duncan stood up. "He should be. Shall I have them come in? The imposter's sleeping. I had Orko check. I think we'd better get this done quickly before he wakes up."

Randor nodded, and Duncan let the master and the two soldiers in. All three looked worried to have been summoned into the king's presence at such an hour in such a place. Their eyes widened when they saw him, naked to the waist, sitting at the table.

"Your highness, are you well?" Manny exclaimed. "You – Duncan, you said he'd been injured, but not how seriously."

"I'm fine," Randor said irritably. "I –"

"Sire, you're white as a sheet! And I can tell that you've been given some very strong stimulants." He turned to Duncan. "He looks on the verge of a collapse! What has been going on here?"

"Prince Adam has been abducted by an imposter who has been torturing both the prince and the king, in part by forcing the king to watch while he torments his son."

There was dead silence in the room until Dorgan let out a long, low whistle. "My, that was succinct."

"When did this happen?" Manny asked slowly, his voice low with horror.

"The day Cringer attacked Adam was the first," Randor said.

"Well, that explains a lot," Raon said, eyes wide. "I had difficulty imagining even Beastman getting Cringer to go after Adam."

Randor sat forward, leaning on his elbows. "Duncan left out one salient point. Day before yesterday, the imposter abducted Teela as well." Manny blinked briefly to growl as Man-E-Monster, then back to his human face.

Jeffrin, unused to such exalted company, cleared his throat apologetically. "Is that what happened to Mekanek?"

"Yes," Randor said. "Actually, Man-at-Arms left out several points. The imposter has also threatened the queen, Man-at-Arms himself, and Cringer, as well as bespelling Mekanek."

"What's happened to Prince Adam, sire?" Raon asked tentatively. Randor recalled suddenly that Raon had been among Adam's playmates when they were boys. "And Captain Teela, has she been harmed?"

"Apart from being locked up in a small space, Teela has not been harmed thus far. Adam has –" Randor's voice failed him. He clenched his teeth together and took a deep breath. Raon's expression grew more alarmed by the second as Randor failed to continue. Manny just looked more neutral than ever, practically resembling his robot form. Poor Jeffrin's eyes were so wide that he looked about twelve.

"Adam has been burned," Dorgan said flatly.

"How badly?" Raon asked, appalled.

"Take a look at the king's back," Dorgan said.

Randor blinked. They did have to know what they would be facing. "Will they be able to see it?" he asked. "Isn't it bandaged? It feels stiff."

"There is a gel over it that has formed a second skin, but the gel itself is transparent." Nodding, Randor stood, steadying himself against the table, and turned so that they could see the wound. After a moment, Dorgan said, "The prince has one of those on his chest and one on his arm."

"Handprints?" Jeffrin squeaked.

As Randor turned back, Manny caught his eye. "Sire?" he asked, glancing at the bandage on Randor's arm. Sighing, the king nodded. Jeffrin and Raon looked sick. "Is that all?"

"Isn't it enough?" Dorgan growled. Manny was clearly taken aback by this reaction, and Dorgan sighed. "Unfortunately, no. He was starved for a time, has been thrown around by magical blows, has been bespelled, and, ludicrous as it sounds, has been gored by a wild animal. All of that on top of being stuck in a tiny space with nothing to do for days and without more than the most basic of sanitary facilities –"

This list, baldly stated, made Randor's insides go cold. "Thank you, Dorgan, I think they have the idea," he said.

His tone apparently alarmed Duncan, who put a hand on his shoulder. "I think it's time for the king to get some sleep."

Randor shook his head. "No, I have to speak with Orko."

"Orko?" Duncan asked incredulously. "Surely that can wait."

Dorgan looked at Randor's face, and stood up. "Men, I think I'd best take you to meet your fourth team member, Medic Sevedra. She does not yet have all of this information, so we'd best fill her in. Come along."

"I'll join you all in a few moments to give you more detailed instructions," Duncan said.

They all filed out leaving Randor alone with Duncan. "Randor, why Orko?"

"I promised to speak with him last night."

"I'm sure, under the circumstances, that he will understand."

"No, Duncan, something was worrying him. Something about Adam. Something he didn't really want to tell me. Given Orko's propensity for babbling out the most embarrassing of secrets, that alarms me."

Duncan's eyes widened. "All right, I'll get him."

As Man-at-Arms left the room, Randor sat up straighter, fighting against the weariness that threatened to overtake him. He had begun over the last few minutes to realize just how powerful the painkillers must have been, because they had started to wear off. He clung to the pain as a means to keep him awake. It seemed an eternity when Duncan at last opened the door and ushered the little jester in. His eyes were wide and he looked worried.

"Your highness, are you okay? Is there anything I can do?"

Randor tried to give Orko a reassuring smile, but from the expressions on both Duncan and Orko's faces, the effect must have been ghastly. "Yes, Orko. You started to tell me something the other day, something that worried you about Adam. You can tell me what it is."

"Um," Orko gulped and pulled at the neck of his robes. "It's nothing, really."

Randor sighed and spoke gently to the Trollan, who floated nervously beside Man-at-Arms. "Orko, tell me what concerns you about Adam."

"Well . . ." Orko started hesitantly. Gulping, he started speaking very rapidly. "Aside from the fact that he's being awfully mean to everybody, which isn't like him, and not visiting Cringer, even against your orders, I think he's been playing around with something magical in his room. Something that might be, um, dangerous."

"Why haven't you said something about this before?" Duncan asked.

Orko began fiddling with the hem of his robe. "I – I didn't want to get him in trouble. He's been really mad at me lately, and I didn't know what was going on. And I thought you knew, because sometimes when the magic was happening, the king was in his room with him."

"I think I understand, Orko. Well, Duncan?" Randor raised an eyebrow.

Duncan looked heavenward, then sighed. "Orko, that isn't Adam."

Orko bobbed with alarm. "It isn't? Then where is he?"

Randor stood up. "Orko, Man-at-Arms knows what's going on, he'll fill you in. Duncan, I leave this in your capable hands." Ignoring Duncan's mildly betrayed expression, Randor handed him the viewer. "I'm going to bed. Remember, Duncan, seven, no later."

As he rose to his feet, his vision blackened and he felt himself falling. Before he hit the floor, however, something caught and cradled him. He blinked his eyes back into focus and discovered that he was floating seven or eight inches off the floor. "What on Eternia?" he demanded weakly.

"I caught you, your highness," Orko burbled, sounding pleased with himself. The Trollan was always so glad to be of help. Randor tried to relax, but he felt like he was going to fall to the floor at any moment. "Hey, what happened to your back?"

"Never mind that for now, Orko," Duncan said, his voice full of alarm. "I'll explain in a minute. Just put the king down."

"In there?" Orko asked. Randor bobbed along, rising somewhat as Orko guided him toward the bed. Duncan kept putting his hands out – toward him – toward Orko – as though not sure what he could safely do. Randor heaved a sigh of relief as Orko deposited him gently on the bed, and then he fell into a profound slumber.


	13. And the Bargain Changes

**Chapter 13 . . . And the Bargain Changes**

Adam sat in the chair writing some notes on their discussions on the Pelian war and Teela leaned over his shoulder, making suggestions, when a new portal opened on the other side of the table. The imposter stepped through wearing an impish grin. Not speaking, he looked down at the pile of books that sat in front of him on the table and selected one of Elegius' diaries. He saluted them with it, then left the way he had come. The whole incident took only a few seconds, and neither Adam or Teela had any time to react before he was gone.

"What's he up to?" Adam wondered aloud.

Teela was blinking and staring at the air where the imposter had stood. "That was just bizarre," she muttered. Adam nodded agreement, but she shook her head. "Not him taking the book, though that's kind of weird. It was – well – he looked like you. I mean, you grin like that when you're going to do something you shouldn't."

Disturbed, Adam looked back and imagined the imposter's face. "So, what do you suppose _he's_ up to?"

A chair materialized suddenly on the other side of the table, making them both jump. It was one of the ones from Adam's bedroom, he noticed. "I don't know what he's doing," Teela said in an apprehensive voice. "But whatever it is has put him in an alarmingly good mood." They shared worried looks. Then, shrugging, Teela grabbed the chair and sat down.

* * *

Randor woke up slowly to the sound of a bustling infirmary. His back ached terribly, and his whole body felt stiff, as if he hadn't moved in hours. Which he probably hadn't, he reflected. With a great effort, he rolled himself onto his side, preparatory to standing up. 

In the chair beside the bed sat the imposter, open book in hand, in the pose of worried son. Randor froze for a second and then forced himself to react as normally as he could, for beyond the imposter he could see that the door into the main room of the infirmary was open. People were sitting on the exam tables and medics were moving about, but nobody was paying attention to them. Then Orko darted into view. Apparently he was helping out, because he was carrying a small pile of bandages which he gave to one of the medics. His eyes flashed to the king's movement, and he flitted immediately out of sight.

"Good morning, Father," the imposter said in a fair imitation of Adam's tone. For the most part, he hadn't seen the fellow when anyone else was around to hear them, so he hadn't actually heard him pretending to be Adam. The sound of it made his flesh crawl. "How are you feeling?"

Randor glared at him, unable to help himself. "I'm fine," he growled. "Just tired and a little sore."

The imposter smiled brightly at him. "I've been doing my physical therapy with Dorgan today, and he says my progress is 'satisfactory at this stage in my recovery.'" There was something unsavory in the weasel's expression, and the notion that Dorgan had declared his 'progress' to be satisfactory made Randor very nervous. Even this evil fool wasn't that stupid. What had Dorgan done?

The imposter leaned close to speak into his ear, but at that moment the light from the doorway was occluded as Dorgan came in. "Your highness, I'm glad to see you're awake," Dorgan said. "We had some trouble awakening you at seven as you asked." Randor raised his eyebrows. _How long did I sleep?_ he wondered. "Since that was the case, Adam and I decided to let you sleep yourself out." _The imposter and Dorgan decided . . . ?_ There was a self-satisfied smirk in the weasel's eyes that gave Randor pause. What had happened while he slept? What new horror had he unleashed? Dorgan turned back from closing the door, his eyes going first to Randor's face and then to the imposter's. Deep apprehension flickered in the healer's eyes as he gazed at the imposter.

"Man-at-Arms is working hard on my device, Randor," the imposter said in calm, cool tones. There was no doubt that something had changed while he slept, some shift in the balance of power. What was going on? Why was the imposter behaving as though Dorgan knew the secret? "Evidently Man-E-Faces came in during the night with the dendromine he needed, and he sent him back out with a small team to look for the elpinar." The imposter shot an amused glance at Dorgan. "And your healer here is too smart for his own good."

Randor pushed himself upright. "What do you mean?" he asked.

The imposter shrugged and stood up, strolling over to stand face to face with Dorgan, who stood stiffly, looking straight ahead. Had the monster done something to him? "Well, according to him, he's been wondering about Prince Adam for days. Admittedly, I've been fairly hit or miss with my movement, and I haven't been in for therapy once. But I wondered. . . .after all, you told the mechanic easily enough when he asked. Did you tell the healer? Did he ask?" Randor was at a loss for words. Waking out of deep sleep to an inquisition left him floundering. "Did you volunteer the information? Did the mechanic tell him?"

"I need to treat the king," Dorgan said suddenly.

The imposter turned and favored the healer with an angry glare. "Don't interrupt me."

"You won't be pleased if he falls asleep during this interview, will you?" Dorgan snapped.

The fellow raised an irritated eyebrow and shrugged. "No, I suppose I wouldn't," he said lazily. "Give him whatever shot you think will keep him able to respond and then keep quiet." Dorgan walked over and checked Randor's temperature and looked in his eyes. Then he selected a shot and gave it to him. When he was done, he backed away and stood against the wall. "So, do you have an answer for me, King Randor? How did the healer find out?"

Hoping against hope that this was the right answer, for the consequences of being caught in a lie could be grave, Randor said, "I didn't know he knew. He never said anything to me."

The weasel walked over and Randor's eye was drawn to the book he still held. With a sinking feeling, the king recognized it. It was one of Elegius' diaries. He'd sent all of them to Adam days ago. . . . The imposter put one finger under his chin and drew his face up. "You wouldn't lie to me, now, would you?" A vicious smile ghosted across his face to be replaced by a look of determination. "The penalties would be severe. You'd still want your baby boy back if he was missing a hand, wouldn't you?" He put the book down on the bed next to Randor's knee and sauntered back to his chair where he sat down languidly. "And then there's the question of which hand. I suppose I could ask Adam which one he would prefer to lose."

"I didn't know Dorgan knew," Randor said again, his mouth dry. "In fact, I doubt he was certain until you confirmed it." Dorgan nodded, and Randor thanked the elders he'd chosen the right lie.

"I see. Well, then, this does make things more complicated, doesn't it?"

"How so? Neither Duncan nor Dorgan will tell anyone else."

"The healer has no one to hold hostage against his good behavior. How ever am I going to control him?"

"If any more people fall ill or disappear, more people will get suspicious," Randor said, trying and failing to swallow. "You can't keep on –"

"I know," the weasel said complacently. "And it's no fun damaging an unconscious man," he went on, glancing in the direction of Mekanek's room, effectively reminding them both of that threat. "So poor Prince Adam has just gained another strike against him. I find it interesting that you threatened to kill me should I harm the girl, but I've damaged your son repeatedly without so much as an irate word. Can it be that I've taken the wrong hostage?" Randor had nothing to say to this. The imposter had made this suggestion before, followed by a threat to take Marlena. "Tell me, Randor, have I? Would you be better pleased if I killed the boy?" Randor looked up at him, appalled by the very suggestion. "Is all this just your sense of duty?" The weasel leaned toward him, poking him in the knee. "Some men will do a lot out of guilt. Could it be that you don't really care for the boy? That you feel guilty for that, and that's why you're doing this?"

"What do you want me to say?" Randor demanded. "I love my son. I would do anything for him."

"Anything?" the weasel purred. "I like the sound of that." He stood up and walked to the door. Smiling, he said, "If the machine isn't done by the end of the week, you'll be getting a couple of fingers to demonstrate that I'm in earnest." Then he opened the door and left the room, swinging it shut behind him.

After a moment, Dorgan walked over and began to examine Randor's back. The king took several deep breaths and then said, "What happened, Dorgan?"

The healer didn't respond for a long while, concentrating on changing the dressing on Randor's back. Randor knew he was just stalling, but he didn't press. Finally, Dorgan said, "He came in when I was trying to wake you. I really couldn't, by the way. I gave you a mild stimulant, and you didn't stir."

"Then?"

"I didn't want him to hang around – I wanted to avoid you waking up to him, in fact," Dorgan said dryly. "I suggested he join me for a little physical therapy to keep him occupied until you woke." The healer sighed. "I suppose some of my unease at having him so near you must have been evident. I figured he'd hare off to avoid being found out, but he came into the office with me – we were alone, of course –"

"Did he harm you?" Randor asked.

Dorgan didn't answer the question. "He just did all the exercises without hesitation or difficulty. When I stuttered something about adequate performance, he stood up and – and I found myself hitting a wall, though not with very much force." Randor growled low in his throat. "I'm fine, Randor, a bruise or two, nothing more. He asked me how I figured it out, and why I didn't confront him with it." Dorgan shrugged. "I told him I wanted to ask you about it first."

Randor sighed. "That seems reasonable."

"He went away to question Duncan, then he came back and sat down by your bed. Does that book have some significance?"

"Yes, it's one of the ones I sent to Adam."

"Ah."

"I take it Manny's party had no trouble setting off?"

"None whatsoever."

"Have you seen Duncan?"

Dorgan shook his head. "He hasn't been out of his workshop yet today, or so I gather. It's nearly noon, by the way."

Randor stood up. "Is there anything else you need to do to me at the moment?"

"Well, I should give you an all over check up, just to –"

"So not really. I'm going to see Duncan." He went to the cupboard on the wall and opened it. Where are my clothes?"

"You can't put a shirt on over that dressing," Dorgan said. "It –"

"Then put a bandage over it. I must go to see Duncan, and I can't go out like this."

"I'll send for him."

"No, Dorgan! He needs to keep working on that machine. I will go to him."

There was a knocking at the door and both men stiffened. Randor turned so that his back would not be visible from the door as Dorgan went to answer it. "I must speak to his highness," said the voice of a guard. "There is an urgent message from the lord of Avion."

"Stratos? Dorgan, get me a shirt."

Frowning, the healer pulled out a pajama shirt and helped Randor into it, and then followed him to his office, where Randor activated the viewscreen in secure mode.

"Yes, Stratos?"

"Your highness. I have news for you." Randor could see that Stratos was in his own home, and Marlena was in view behind him, her eyes grave.

"What news?"

"Not good, I'm afraid." The Avion held a scroll in his hand. "We have discovered very little about the artifact he seeks beyond its name and what it takes to bring it to power. It lies dormant far beneath the surface, encased in benzoral and sunk in a stratum of yetheni."

"No wonder he wants the elpinar for the head of the drill," Randor said. "What else?"

Stratos looked down at the scroll, and took a deep breath. It was evident that he didn't want to impart the next piece of information. Randor curbed his impatience and waited. "It takes blood to activate it. Human blood."

Randor stared. Wetting his lips, he asked, "How much?"

Stratos did not respond – in fact he seemed unable to. Marlena took a step forward. "The description in the chronicle we found is 'the life's blood of two hundred innocents at the very least, more if possible.'" She spoke without consulting any text; her husband imagined that the words must be seared indelibly into her mind. Now they knew why the weasel didn't want the village moved. "Randor, I – we –" She shook her head. "We can't sacrifice two hundred men, women and children for Adam's life, or for Teela's. And we haven't yet found what the artifact _does_. It can be nothing good with that price to use it."

"From all the references we've found, it sounds like an extremely powerful device, your highness. Something that had better remain buried."

Randor gazed into his queen's desperate eyes. What were they going to do?

"Find him," Marlena said in a determined voice. "Find our son, Randor. Find him and then destroy that evil toad."

"We've already got Manny searching for him," Randor said. "I will find him, Marlena. I will."

The soldier who'd brought the message had waited outside the office while they took the call from Stratos. Randor sent him to get some clothes from his room. Then he turned to Dorgan. "You do whatever you must to keep me going. Once Adam is safely home, I can collapse, but not before."

Dorgan nodded reluctantly. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

Randor looked at the healer's worried expression and did not answer the question he was really asking. He wasn't yet ready to answer that question. "I'm going to go see Duncan as soon as I'm dressed." He fiddled with the papers on his desk while he was waiting, and his eye fell on the tentative evacuation plan for Arleron village he'd started work on days ago. Picking it up, he gazed thoughtfully out the window The machine couldn't be built until one of the teams returned with sufficient elpinar. They had a little time. _We have a week before serious mutilations begin,_ he thought grimly.

He dressed quickly when his clothes arrived and went straight to Duncan's lab. His heart sank as he arrived to find Buzz-Off explaining where and how he had found the elpinar. The imposter stood nearby leaning against what had to be the excavator, beaming happily as Buzz-Off described his quest. He glanced over at their entry. "Father!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing out of bed?" Playing Adam to the hilt, he fussed until Dorgan got Randor a chair. He sat on the arm of the chair, one arm draped ever so gently across his "father's" back. Randor hoped the distaste he felt for this pose was less than evident.

Buzz-Off began his tale again for the king's benefit. Randor had difficulty following the narrative, but the Andrenid didn't appear to notice that the king was less vocal than usual. He probably put it down to his illness. At least Randor hoped so.

"That's just great!" the imposter said enthusiastically as the Andrenid wound up his story by gesturing at the crate of elpinar he'd managed to obtain. "Great work, Buzz-Off." He'd gotten the congratulatory tone slightly wrong and it came out patronizing. The Andrenid's wings buzzed in irritation, but he said nothing, merely nodding his thanks.

"Well," the imposter said giving Randor's shoulders a squeeze that made his eyes widen in pain. "I'm going to have lunch." Grinning, he left.

Randor glanced over to Dorgan who was watching the ersatz prince leave through one of the windows. When he nodded, Randor sighed and said, "Thank you, Buzz-Off, you have performed yeoman service as usual."

Buzz-Off, seeming more gratified, nodded at the king, then tilted his head. "Are you in pain, your highness? You seem very stiff."

Randor nodded wearily. Duncan's eyes widened at this frank admission of weakness from the king. "Tell me, Buzz-Off, was Adam here when you arrived or did he come in after you?"

"He was here." The Andrenid gave the king an odd look. "I am concerned, your highness. His – forgive me – his scent has changed. Is he unwell?"

Randor closed his eyes. He felt himself start to laugh helplessly. It started low, but grew until he had to clamp his jaws tightly together to keep the volume down. When it became apparent that he could not stop, Dorgan stepped quickly up to him, taking hold of his chin and checking his eyes. His grip startled Randor out of his hysteria, and he waved the healer off. Buzz-Off watched with alarm, his wings thrumming an uneasy cadence. Duncan had clenched impotent fists and looked away.

"I do not understand," Buzz-Off said. "Is there something I should know?"

Randor, having regained control of his voice, looked up at the Lord of Andrenos. "How easily can you manufacture a convincing excuse to return to your homeland?"

His wings gave a flickering buzz, a perplexed sort of sound. "Easily. Is there some further service you would have me perform?"

"There is. But there are some things you should know, first." Before he had come close to finishing his tale, the Andrenid had found it necessary to take flight twice to control his agitation, darting around the lab, his wings vibrating loudly.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked when Randor had fallen silent.

Pulling out the evacuation plan that he had shoved hastily in his pocket upon seeing the imposter in the lab, Randor handed it to him. "I would like you to manage the covert evacuation of the village of Arleron." Dorgan made a surprised movement. "It must seem for the moment that nothing there has changed, and there must be no gossip. Do you think you can do that?"

Buzz-Off's wings stilled for a moment as he considered the proposition. "Yes, sire, I think I could. It might help if you assigned me a member of the guard as a liaison. Do you have someplace in mind to move the villagers to?"

"Unfortunately, no. It's difficult to imagine where we could put them that wouldn't excite comment." Randor shook his head, trying yet again to come up with a solution to this problem.

"May I suggest that there are some caverns in Andrenos suitable for the housing of quite a number of your kind, were they to be provided with sufficient supplies," Buzz-Off said diffidently.

"Indeed?" Randor said, surprised by the offer.

Duncan sat down on the crate of elpinar. "That's a magnificent offer, Buzz-Off," he said. "But I'm afraid that sort of movement would almost undoubtedly cause quite a stir."

"Surely some means could be invented to camouflage the caravans," Randor said, reluctant to abandon so good an idea.

"I've got some ideas," Buzz-Off said. "How much time do I have?"

"Duncan, how long before the machine is completed?"

"I can drag it out until the week is up, another five days."

"But how long, truly?"

Man-at-Arms gazed at the elpinar judiciously, then glanced at the excavator. "Two days."

Randor nodded thoughtfully. "But, sire, you can't be planning on –" Dorgan started to say, but stopped at a glare from Randor.

Duncan gave Randor an appraising look. "You've heard from Stratos, haven't you?" Randor nodded. "What did he have to say?"

"The artifact he seeks requires the –" Randor discovered that he, too, had memorized the phrasing. "The life's blood of two hundred innocents."

Jaw dropping, Duncan stared at Randor in horror. He rose abruptly and turned away, his back stiff with unexpressed emotion.

"So, you see, we can't complete the machine!" Dorgan exclaimed.

Randor shook his head. "No, Dorgan. We must complete the machine. Or at least we must seem to intend to – to give Manny's team the time it needs to find them." Duncan turned back to face him as he spoke, hope growing on his face. Randor spoke directly to him, trying to bolster his courage. "And if we are forced to give him the device, I plan to deprive him of the villagers. We will stop him, somehow. But we must retrieve Adam and Teela."

Duncan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I will give you what time I can."

Randor relaxed infinitesimally, for if there was one person whose help was mandatory for this mad scheme to succeed, it was Duncan. Then it was his turn to breathe deeply, for this next part was hard to say. "And, much as it pains me to say so, if we need more time than the week, I think that Adam would agree –"

"Randor, no!" Dorgan exclaimed, eyes wide with shock.

Closing his eyes, Randor swallowed. "I don't want to borrow trouble, Dorgan, but surely a couple – surely – to avoid the death of two hundred people and to save their lives –" Randor couldn't bring himself to say aloud that the loss of a few fingers might be worth it. Duncan and Buzz-Off wore identical puzzled looks, though, so Randor pulled himself together and said, "The imposter has threatened to send me a couple of Adam's fingers if the machine isn't done by the end of the week." There was silence as the two masters took in that information.

Dorgan cleared his throat. "I can have facilities prepared to preserve them if the situation arises." Randor looked up at him, eyes wide, the very pragmatism of the statement hitting him like a blow to the gut. "It may be possible to reattach them."

Duncan crossed to his king and gripped his shoulder. Randor winced, and Duncan gave him a apologetic look. "It won't come to that, Randor."

"Well, see to it that it doesn't," Dorgan snapped.

Buzz-Off had watched this interplay silently. Now he snapped his wings. "I'd best be off to make my plans."

"I'll send someone to work with you shortly," Man-at-Arms said. Buzz-Off opened the door and flitted off into the garden. The three men sat quietly for a moment, then Duncan said, "Randor, did he say anything about Teela?"

"Only that he was surprised that I threatened to kill him over her and not over Adam." Randor shook his head. "Is there something wrong with me, Duncan? He's not wrong. He's hurt Adam repeatedly and I haven't so much as reproached him for it."

"Randor, I –"

"What kind of a father am I? My son has been kidnapped out of his own bedroom four times in the last three months, and two of those times the villains actually succeeded in getting him out of the palace! Teela was very nearly taken along with him on one of those occasions." Randor buried his face in his hands. "If I can't keep my own son safe, how can I manage the security of my country effectively?"

"First of all, Randor," Dorgan said in caustic tones, "there's nothing wrong with you. You didn't reproach him about Adam because you were afraid he'd go back and hurt him some more." Randor looked at Dorgan in surprise. "Second, I would imagine that it comes as second nature to you as your father's son to intimidate people who threaten the safety of women." Duncan sank down onto the crate of elpinar, staring up at the healer in fascination. "Third, your son's security and your nation's security are entirely different things, which you would realize yourself if you thought about it for a moment."

"Dorgan, I –"

"Furthermore, unless you plan to turn your court into an armed camp with guards in every room and checkpoints to get from wing to wing, there is always going to be a threat that people will sneak in past your security." Dorgan gave an aggrieved sigh. "And, forgive me, sire, but now is not the time for self-pity. You can wallow later, when Adam and Teela are home safe."

"Well said, Dorgan," Duncan commented. "Randor, you have given us all our instructions. Is there anything else you need to accomplish?"

"Duncan, I am not going back to –"

"You must get rest, your highness. While I wholly support your desire to be awake and present for the key moments in this crisis, Dorgan's drugs have their limits. If you exceed them, it won't matter how much he gives you."

"If he exceeds the limits, I won't give him any more. I've already tried once to kill him, I won't do it again."

Randor gave the healer a sour look. "It's my turn to tell you not to wallow in self-pity. You made a mistake – it's not the end of the world."

"That's easy for you to say, but –"

Duncan stood up. "All right, we have declared a moratorium on self-pity and guilt. Randor, you're going to sleep for a couple of hours. Dorgan, has he eaten?" Dorgan shook his head and hastily left the room, presumably to get a meal of some sort. Randor hoped not glop.

"I don't want to sleep, Duncan," Randor said vehemently.

"Randor, you must. You need the rest. Don't tell me you're not tired."

"It's not that. The last time I woke up, the imposter was waiting beside me." He shuddered. "I don't think I can face that again."

The sick look on Duncan's face made it clear that he understood Randor's point. "There's always the cot in here," he suggested, bending to pull the object in question out from under the workbench where he stored it when not in use. Randor looked down at the appealing flat surface. "I'll be here, and I won't let him be the first thing you see when you awaken."

Randor sat down on the cot. "Give me those five days, Duncan," he said. Nodding, Duncan handed him a blanket and Randor lay down on his stomach. He was asleep before Dorgan could return with his food.

* * *

Adam woke to the sound of Teela counting. He was lying on his back. Turning his head he saw that she was doing push ups. "Nineteen. . .twenty. . .twenty-one. . ." 

"What are you doing that for?" he asked.

"I don't want to lose my fighting trim," Teela said, pausing for another push up. "I can't spar – even if you were well – there really isn't space – and we have no weapons." She sat back on her knees and wiped her forehead with her sleeve. "How are you feeling?"

"Wiped out," Adam said. "It's really rotten to wake up feeling exhausted."

"Maybe you'd better just stay in bed," Teela said. "I wasn't sure I was going to get you back to bed when your energy crashed this last time."

"I can't stand to be in bed when I'm not sleeping," Adam groused. "I've spent far too much time in beds over the last few months."

Teela snorted, acknowledging the truth of that statement. "So, do you want to read to me while I work out? We still have to find those references to Berevor in the new book."

Adam sighed. "Sure. Let me have a glass of water."

* * *

The rest of the day passed somewhat oddly for Randor. He awakened in the lab after about two hours and Dorgan practically materialized at his side and forced a hearty soup upon him. There he sat for awhile, watching Duncan work. Though recovering from his wounds was sapping the energy out of him, he couldn't sleep all the time, no matter what Dorgan thought. 

Duncan was hard at work fashioning drill bits from the elpinar. There was something soothing about watching his competent hands shape the metal. After a time, Randor said, "So, have there been any reports?"

"None," Duncan said, not looking up from his labors. "'Adam' has been in twice since you fell asleep, to gloat over his excavator."

"Oh."

"And we have a problem. He drew up the plans for the device. He can tell that it's nearly done. I don't think he'll buy that it's going to take me five more days to complete it."

"I'm sure we'll come up with some way to stall him."

"Perhaps." Duncan shook his head. "I don't know." Randor watched him as he continued to work with the metal.

"Where's the viewer?" he asked abruptly. Duncan pointed to it where it lay on the workbench near Randor's head. Picking it up, he activated it and gazed at the view it presented. Adam was sitting up on the bed, leaning back against the wall, apparently reading aloud from a book he held in his lap. Teela was working out. As he watched, she finished her exercises and went to sit next to Adam on the bed. They began an animated discussion. Then Adam suddenly looked tired and, between one word and the next, he seemed to doze off.

Teela stood up, looking down at him with concern in her eyes. She took the book, then straightened him out and got him lying down with a tenderness that she'd never have shown had she been aware of being watched. Randor was alarmed, however, by Adam's abrupt lapse into sleep. "Duncan, can you get Dorgan here for me, right away?"

Duncan looked up from his work and gazed worriedly at Randor. "Is something wrong, your highness? Are you in pain?"

"No, Duncan, it's Adam. He just – in the middle of talking with Teela, he just fell asleep."

Man-at-Arms raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that. It's not uncommon, Randor. It's a reaction to the severity of his injuries combined with –"

It seemed to Randor that he only blinked, but when he opened his eyes again, Duncan was bending over him, eyes filled with worry, checking his pulse. He realized what must have happened, and looked up at Duncan wryly. "I thought it was nothing to worry about, Duncan?"

"Adam is younger, and he didn't go into shock and nearly die last night," Man-at-Arms said. "I've sent for Dorgan."

"I just fell asleep, Duncan. Like father, like son, right?"

Duncan wouldn't stop fussing, though, until Dorgan had arrived and pronounced his condition unchanged. With Dorgan came a servant bearing dinner for three. They ate, not saying much, watching as Teela ate and Adam slept. Randor grew drowsy again before he had half finished his food, but he forced himself to keep eating. He had visions of Dorgan pouring glop into him while he slept helplessly if he thought the king hadn't eaten enough dinner. When Duncan got up and started back to work on the excavator, Randor sighed. "I'm going back to sleep," he said. "Please don't let me sleep till noon."

"Are you coming back to the infirmary?" Dorgan asked.

Randor glanced back at the cot he'd occupied for so much of the day. "I think I'll stay here. Duncan can drag me back to my rooms when he's ready to sleep." Dorgan shook his head disapprovingly, but helped him back to the cot where he stretched out and was asleep again before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Randor awoke in near total darkness with the noise of someone's resounding snores filling his ears. He was lying, of course, on his stomach, on a bed and not the cot. His eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light, but he still wasn't sure where he was. It wasn't the lab, that was certain, and it wasn't his bedchamber. He turned his head and found that the snorer was Duncan, who had fallen asleep in the chair by the bed in the infirmary. The snoring was no doubt due to his position, which looked uncomfortable in the extreme. 

Very gingerly, he pushed himself up to his knees on the bed. His stomach was rumbling, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Dorgan would disapprove of his ignoring it because it was the middle of the night. He wondered why no one had gotten a cot for Man-at-Arms, who was likely to fall out of that chair before very much longer. Slowly and quietly, he got off the bed, muting his grunts of pain as best he could. Duncan didn't stir. When he opened the door and stepped into the main room of the infirmary, he found that Medic Jonis was there, doing paperwork. The medic looked up as he entered the room and said, "Your highness, how are you feeling?"

"Like a cart rolled over me. But chiefly, at the moment, I'm hungry."

"Good." Jonis jumped up and went immediately into the kitchen that was attached to the infirmary. He emerged a moment later with a tray full of food from which steam rose in the night air. Randor was ravenous. He sat eagerly as Jonis placed the tray on the table. Grilled fish, he wasn't certain what variety, a green salad, and a bowl of thick, rich, vegetable soup. He nodded his thanks to the medic and began eating with gusto. Jonis smiled and went back to his paperwork.

Randor was sopping up the last of his soup with a piece of bread when Duncan came barreling into the room. "Where's the king?" he demanded. Jonis's eyes widened at his frantic tone.

Raising his eyebrows, Randor cleared his throat. "I'm here, Duncan, and I'm fine." Man-at-Arms slumped against the doorframe with relief. "Which reminds me, I meant to ask. Jonis, why didn't someone bring a cot into the room for Duncan?"

"He said he didn't need one."

Randor gave Duncan an irritated look. "Well, if it's possible at this hour of the night, could you send for one now?" Jonis nodded and got up to open a supply cupboard. "I'm not going to have you ruining your own health at a time like this."

Duncan glared, but Randor ignored it. "Now, sit down. Did you have dinner, or did you work straight through the meal?"

"Someone sent a snack over from the kitchen. I ate some of it."

Carrying the cot he'd pulled out of storage toward the bedchamber, Jonis said, "I'll get his plate in a moment, sire."

"No doubt Dorgan left strict orders for us to be fed if we so much as twitched an eyelid," Randor said wryly. "I hope he got a good dinner."

"He's a fine one for not practicing what he preaches," Duncan said as he sat down. "I know he didn't eat much at lunch."

Randor applied himself to the remainder of his meal. Shortly, Jonis arrived with a tray for Duncan and more soup for the king. "You don't need to worry about Healer Dorgan, your highness," the medic said. "Three of us sat on him this evening. We made him eat and then sent him firmly to bed."

"I'm glad to hear it," Duncan remarked. "Maybe he'll be less grouchy tomorrow."

Jonis rolled his eyes in resigned agreement and went back to his work.

"How did you get me to the infirmary?" Randor asked. "I hope you didn't carry me through the halls." He chuckled. "And if you did, I hope Lady Asala didn't see me." Jonis snorted.

"Elders forfend," Duncan groaned. "That's all we need. No, I had the halls cleared and then Jonis and I carried you in and put you to bed."

"And then you sat on the chair and – what, were you going to stay awake all night?" Duncan looked down at his fish and didn't answer the question. "Don't be foolish, Duncan. I need you at your best. This crisis won't be helped if we both collapse." Duncan continued to eat, and he continued to remain silent. Randor gave him an ironic look, and began to eat the fresh bowl of soup Jonis had brought.

Before long, however, Randor began to tire again. He stood up, yawning. "Duncan, you will come back in there and sleep on the cot, won't you? Or do I have to make it a royal command?"

Duncan glared up at him. "No, sire, you don't have to make it a royal command."

Randor returned to the bed and went back to sleep.

Dorgan woke him the next morning with an enormous bowl of oatmeal flavored with brown sugar, a bowl of mixed fruit, and a sausage and cheese omelet. "Surely you don't expect me to eat all that, Dorgan?" Randor exclaimed, looking at the laden tray.

"I expect you will eat a great deal of it, young man," the healer said. Randor gave him an irritated look. "Don't glare at me, or I'll confine you to bed."

"Where's Duncan?"

"He'll be back momentarily. I sent him to get washed up. We'll get you cleaned up after you've eaten."

Randor applied himself to his breakfast, surprised by the appetite he felt. Duncan returned and was presented with a similar tray. "How did you sleep, Randor?" Man-at-Arms asked.

"Like the dead."

"Me, too, apart from that startling moment last night."

"I'm glad to see you both so well rested," drawled a voice from the doorway. They both turned, and Randor felt his gut chill. The imposter stepped into the room and shut the door. "So, mechanic, how soon will my device be done?"

Duncan turned to Randor, but the imposter snapped his fingers, capturing his attention. "No, no, don't look at the king. He's not the one building the machine, I doubt he has any more idea when it will be complete than that floating imbecile of a jester." The weasel turned to the king and said, "Why _do _you keep him around, Randor? He isn't even funny." Randor looked at him neutrally and continued to eat, pretending a calm he didn't feel. The imposter sauntered over and stood between them, leaning on the bed. "So, Duncan, when will my excavator be done? I'm sure you can come up with an answer without consulting your king."

Randor kept his eyes on his plate, not wanting to draw Duncan's attention and irritate the imposter further. He wanted to kick out with his leg and shove the weasel to the floor, but that was undoubtedly a very bad idea.

"Another two days at least," Duncan temporized. "The elpinar is proving to be very difficult to work with."

"Really? I see." He turned to the king. "So tell me, Randor, do you agree with this assessment?"

"You just made the point that I know very little about the machine. I would have to take Duncan's word on the matter."

The imposter shoved his weight off the bed and went to pace along the wall opposite the foot. "So," he said finally. "This wouldn't have anything to do with a conversation the two of you had last night regarding stalling me, would it?" Randor blinked. How long had he been eavesdropping? "Because I really don't like the sound of that."

"No," Duncan said firmly. "I'm quite serious. I wouldn't stall you." He glanced at Randor, his eyes unreadable. "I want my daughter back right now."

The imposter's eyes widened, and a grin began to play at the corners of his mouth. "Do I sense trouble between this famous pair of old friends? Do Randor's goals and yours suddenly fail to match, Man-at-Arms?" He walked over to Duncan and squatted so that he would be eye to eye. "When the machine is completed, mechanic, you will get your daughter back." He glanced up at the king. "When I have used it successfully to achieve my goals, the prince will be returned." Standing, he said, "But I think the king needs a bit of persuasion. I'd watch that viewer closely today, old man. Just remember, the sooner I can use my excavator, the sooner your son is safe." He shrugged. "Assuming that's what you want." With that, the weasel turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

After a moment, Duncan turned to Randor. "I'm sorry, sire. I didn't mean to –"

"Shut up, Duncan," Randor growled. "That dirty, rotten, scheming, no-good – the deal was that I got Adam back when he got his machine!"

"I know, Randor. It's my fault. I shouldn't have –"

"Stop it! That's an order, Man-at-Arms. You called a moratorium on self-pity yesterday. That didn't apply just to Dorgan and me." Duncan's jaw worked but he didn't say anything more. Randor picked up the viewer. "Now we've got other things to think about. Like what he's going to do to Adam."

Dorgan came in and shut the door. "What's going on? What did he say? What did he do?"

"He's changed the deal," Duncan said. "And he's evidently been eavesdropping."

Dorgan looked thunderstruck. "What?"

"He heard us last night talking about stalling him."

"You mean he heard me," Randor said. "I'm the only one who said anything about stalling him." He shook his head. "He's decided that Teela is his warranty that the machine will be made, and Adam –"

"He's going to hold Adam until he's used the device," Duncan interrupted. Dorgan's eyes widened, and he left the room abruptly. Randor looked at his friend in surprise. What was the old healer doing? A moment later, he returned, carrying three pads of paper and pencils. He handed one to each of them, then wrote hurriedly on his, passing it face down to Randor.

_He can't hear what we don't say aloud. What are you going to do?_

The king read the words thoughtfully. He passed the pad on to Duncan and sat back without thinking. He immediately sat forward again, biting back an irritated cry of pain.

"Don't do that, you fool!" Dorgan exclaimed.

Randor just glared at him, picked up his pad of paper and wrote, _Rescue them._

Dorgan took the pad from him when he held it out and read the simple message. Rolling his eyes, he wrote and handed it back. _How?_

Randor sighed and gave Dorgan an annoyed look. _However we can,_ he wrote and handed it back to the healer. "I need to bathe," he said aloud. "I think I've had enough breakfast for now."

Dorgan handed the pad with their messages on it to Duncan and said, "All right, Randor, let's get you a bath."

The king allowed the healer to guide him to the infirmary's bathing chamber. There followed a brief wrangle as the healer insisted on helping him bathe. Randor gave in with ill grace, realizing that he couldn't properly clean the injury on his back. That wretched weasel had a lot to answer for.

Once he was clean, Randor went straight to the lab, where he knew Duncan would have to be by now. Upon arriving, he sat immediately and activated the viewer. Adam and Teela were eating breakfast in peace – well, external peace. They appeared to be arguing about something, but they were alone.

* * *

"Teela, I've had enough sleep!" Adam growled. "I'm not going back to bed." 

"You need more rest –"

"I've been resting for months! I don't want to rest. I want to get my legs strong enough to stomp on that guy!"

Teela shook her head. "Adam, you don't have enough strength to stand up for five minutes at a time."

"Well, that's part of what I want to change!" He got up and walked over to the wall with the door he'd carved. They'd spent some time on it, Teela painting the top while he sat on the floor and painted the bottom. It was dry now, and resembled a door out of a fairy tale. He hauled back and punched it again. The force of his blow only succeeded in knocking him on his butt as his balance deserted him. Now the scratches on his thigh hurt all the more, and the same for his chest hurt and arm. And his head hurt.

"Adam!" Teela exclaimed in exasperation, running over to help him up. "You're still recovering from the poison, and –" She touched his forehead. "I think you still have a fever from infection. Don't be so impatient."

"Oh yeah, you're a fine one to talk about impatience!" he muttered. "Every time you've been laid up for any length of time, the healers have had to practically strap you down to keep you in bed."

"That's not the point, Adam," Teela exclaimed, sitting him down in his chair. "The point is that you need to take it slowly."

Adam put his head down on the table. He didn't want to take things slowly. He wanted to be better now. Frustrated, he started thumping his head on the table. He wanted to become He-Man and take that imposter apart.

The sounds of splashing made him look up. Teela was washing her hair, which was an imposing task under these circumstances. Adam started to get up to offer his help, but she turned and looked at him upside down. "Don't get up, Adam. I can manage."

Adam laid his head back down on the table and started thumping again. It was oddly soothing.

Suddenly, a hand wrapped itself in his hair and, pulling back slightly, slammed his forehead down sharply against the tabletop. "There, is that better?" the imposter asked in an amused tone, letting go of his hair but not removing his hand.

Adam sat up, trying to blink away the pain. He could feel the imposter's hand resting lightly on the back of his neck. Teela's head whipped up, sending water and soap flying in an arc. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I'm just here to make a point," he said, tightening his grip on the back of Adam's neck. Teela took in their positions, and her back straightened. "Now, you, girl, stand up slowly." Teela, eyes flashing with anger, did what he said. "Go stand in the corner."

"What?" Teela asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"Imagine just how incapacitating a severe burn in this particular spot would be, my dear." Teela's fists clenched. "Do as I say." Adam gathered himself, preparing to get up, to slam the imposter into the wall behind them.

* * *

"Duncan!" Randor cried as he saw the imposter step out of the portal while Adam had his head down and Teela was distracted with her hair. "Come here! Come quick!" 

Dropping his tools, Man-at-Arms came across the lab at a run and stood over Randor's shoulder, gazing at the scene in front of them.

Then they heard Teela demand to know what the intruder was doing there. "There's sound," Duncan said in shock. "There's never been sound before."

"Sshhhh!" Randor hissed, though his heart was sinking. _Why had the weasel have suddenly included sound? What was he planning? What did he want them to hear? _

"I'm just here to make a point," the imposter said, and Randor wanted to tell him that the point was already made. That he didn't need to do anything. He didn't need to hurt Adam, or frighten him and Teela. There was no need.

When he threatened to burn Adam unless Teela obeyed him, Randor felt his stomach muscles clench, and he began to regret his heavy breakfast. Then he saw Adam's body tense, and he suddenly, passionately wished that he could tell him to be still. Randor hated the notion of Adam sitting by passively with that imposter looming over him like that, but the boy was injured and ill, and weak already from his previous incapacitation. There was nothing he could do.

* * *

Adam must have made some slight movement, for his double looked down at him and chuckled. "I wouldn't do anything foolish if I were you, my prince." Adam gritted his teeth and forced himself to relax as Teela walked over and stood, arms crossed, back to the corner. The imposter gestured toward her and spoke. Adam jerked convulsively, half-expecting the heat to start against the back of his neck. Instead, a wall of light flashed briefly across the corner, sealing Teela in. She stepped forward and put her hands on an invisible forcefield that blocked her off from the rest of the room. 

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Don't you dare hurt him!"

"Keep quiet, girl. I'm not interested in you. Your father's behaving himself." The emphasis he placed on the word 'your' told Adam volumes.

"Oh?" Adam asked, tilting his head to look up at the creep. "Is Father making things difficult for you?" The imposter glared down at him through familiar blue eyes. "I'm glad to hear it," he continued. "He's King of Eternia. He's not supposed to do the bidding of obnoxious little pieces of scum like you."

* * *

Randor felt his breathing stop. _No, Adam, don't keep antagonizing him!_

"I don't think he read my letter," Duncan murmured.

"We saw him read it, Duncan! He just didn't listen!"

* * *

The imposter slammed his head into the table again and Adam's vision blackened briefly. Maybe he should stop annoying this jerk. It didn't seem to have much positive benefit. 

"You are mentally deficient, boy!" the imposter growled, still holding his face pressed against the table.

Adam suddenly found this whole situation funny beyond words. Uncontrollable laughter burbled silently out of him, and he began to shake.

"What, are you crying?" the imposter exclaimed contemptuously, letting him up. "What a –" His eyes widened as the truth of Adam's reaction hit him and he watched the boy clutch at his stomach and at the burn on his chest as he laughed frenetically, undaunted by the obvious threat the doppelganger posed him. "Stop it! This isn't funny, boy!"

* * *

Duncan kept starting words but not being able to finish them as he watched Adam collapse across the table, laughing hysterically. "Adam," he exclaimed finally. "No, don't!" 

Randor watched his son sympathetically. He knew just how he felt.

* * *

Adam tried to control himself, but the laughter just kept bubbling up. He looked up at the imposter and his astonished expression just made him laugh all the harder. "What are you laughing at?" the imposter demanded. 

"This just seems –" Adam gasped "– to be an awful lot of trouble to go to for a shovel." The double's eyes widened and he stared down at his captive, whose gut had begun to ache with all this hilarity. "A fancy shovel, but still a shovel!" Adam could see Teela gaping at him from behind the force field, but he just couldn't master himself. She had her hands up and was waving at him to stop. Adam bit his lip, trying hard to stop, but he just kept laughing. It was growing painful.

Eyes flashing in fury, the imposter drew a knife from a sheath at his waist and slammed it into the tabletop in front of Adam. Its vibration drew Adam's attention, and he took one sharp, short breath and stared at the blade.


	14. The Power of Life and Death

**Chapter 14 The Power of Life and Death**

"Duncan, he's not breathing!" Randor exclaimed, staring in horror at the scene. "Duncan!"

"I can see that, your highness," Duncan said.

"Demons take that evil –"

"Randor, quiet!" Duncan hissed. People will hear you."

Randor choked down on his anger. He would pay. Sooner or later that vile wretch would pay.

* * *

"That's mine," Adam said stupidly when he started breathing again. The blade had stopped vibrating, but it was still stuck firmly in the wood of the table.

"I know. That just makes it poetic."

"Thanks," Adam said breathlessly as the imposter yanked the blade back out of the wood. "I've been wondering where that went." The doppelganger wiped the point of the blade with great care, reaching over into their medical kit for some alcohol. Adam's eyes widened as he considered the implications of this. He tried for insouciance. "That'll make cutting through bandages a lot easier." It came out sounding apprehensive.

The imposter shrugged. "Along with causing a need for more."

Adam wanted to know what the monster planned to do with the knife, but he didn't want to ask, didn't want to seem weak. The adrenaline that had come with the hysteria had gone and left his muscles feeling drained of energy. He stared transfixed at the flashing blade as the fellow turned it in his hand.

"What are you going to do with that?" Teela asked from behind the forcefield.

The fellow glanced over at her, then looked toward the ceiling. "Randor? Do you want to answer that question?" He made an arcane gesture and spoke.

"What?" Adam cried. "My father? No!"

His father's voice came from above them. "Can they hear us?"

"Yes, you fool," the imposter said. "Or I wouldn't ask you questions."

Adam glared at the imposter, putting his hands flat on the table, preparatory to rising. "Don't you call my father a fool!"

The double wrapped his fingers in Adam's hair again.

"No, Adam, don't antagonize him," Randor's voice exclaimed. Adam froze in the chair. His father sounded worried, almost frantic. He closed his eyes and set his teeth, trying to remain calm. He didn't want to give his father anything more to worry about.

"Yes, Randor. Do tell your little boy to behave himself." Adam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep from slamming the imposter in the gut with his elbow.

"Your point is made," Randor said, his voice firm with an undertone of panic. "You don't need to do anything."

The imposter gave Adam's head a shake. "I don't think you quite understand it. Not with all this talk of stalling me." Adam sat stony faced, refusing to react to anything. "So, just what do you suppose I plan to do, your highness?"

"Please, don't hurt him." The shake in his father's voice made Adam want to throw the imposter into the wall and punch him until he was – he was –

"I think you need an object lesson."

"No, don't! I'm building your excavator as fast as I can," Man-at-Arms said. Teela's eyes widened, but she didn't speak.

"No! No, Man-at-Arms! Don't do anything he says!" Pain shot through Adam's skull as the imposter slammed his head down onto the table again, then leaned across his shoulders, holding him down.

"You forget, mechanic, I'm not holding him against the machine's completion any longer." Adam felt a chill. What was he talking about? "Your daughter is hostage to that. What happens to Adam doesn't concern you."

"I'm afraid that I feel differently," Duncan said. _Go with that, Duncan,_ Adam thought.

"How you feel does not concern me, mechanic. Unless, of course, you want me to take action against your daughter." Adam stiffened, and the imposter dug his elbow harder into his back. "I needn't lift 'a violent finger' against her and inspire the king's wrath to cause her serious difficulties. For starters, I could just leave her behind that forcefield for a day or two." There was a brief silence. Adam really hoped he wouldn't do that. "This is between me and Randor. You ought to go back to work or I might take the notion that you're slacking off."

* * *

Duncan glared down into the viewer, then snatched up a pad of paper and a pencil and began scribbling furiously.

Randor watched for a moment, then said, "I'm giving you what you want. I won't try to stall any more."

He could see Adam struggle against the imposter's restraining hand that held his face cruelly down against the table. Finally, the boy managed to get out two words. "Father, no!" The weasel's eyes glinted with anger as he looked down at the prince.

Randor opened his mouth to speak, but Duncan tapped him on the shoulder and thrust the pad of paper in his face. _Beg, plead, sound weak. He likes that._ Randor pursed his lips. Duncan was right, but he hoped Adam wouldn't become too upset and antagonize the villain further.

"Please, I beg of you," he said, allowing his desperation to color his words. "I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hurt him."

* * *

Adam was stunned. His father was begging! The sound of his voice, pleading with the imposter, made him writhe with humiliation on his father's behalf. The imposter chuckled, the sound of it vibrating through Adam's body, making him shudder. "You've said that before, old man. Why should I believe you now?" He took hold of Adam's right wrist and dragged his hand forward on the table. What was he doing? Adam began to feel vague stirrings of panic.

* * *

Duncan was scribbling madly again, and Randor watched in horror as the man forced Adam's hand into easy reach of his knife. He was going to do it, Randor thought sickly. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault. Please don't punish Adam for my actions."

"You knew he was hostage to your actions, Randor. You knew this would be coming."

Duncan thrust the pad at him again, and he read rapidly. _Stroke his ego. De-escalate him!_ _Let him back down from this._

Randor thought hastily. "You've been very patient with me. You're right, I am a fool. You've beaten me. Skeletor never could, but you've beaten me." Randor could see Teela staring upwards, clearly dumbfounded by what she was hearing. She leaned limply against the force field, eyes wide.

"Father, no!" Adam cried. "You rotten creep. My father is ten times the man you'll ever be! He hasn't beaten you, Father! He hasn't!"

Randor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wished Adam would fall silent. Not that the sentiments weren't pleasing, but they were bound to irritate the imposter.

"Adam," he said, trying to think what to say that might get Adam to quiet down. "Please don't make this harder for me. He's right, this is my fault. Please don't annoy him further." He bit his lip and addressed their mutual tormenter. "Don't hurt him. He doesn't understand, he's just a boy. He doesn't realize what you are." _A dead man when I get my hands on you,_ he thought.

"Maybe you have started to develop some sense after all," the imposter said slowly, but he was still leaning across Adam, still holding his right wrist firmly in place, still playing with the dagger, now drawing it slowly back and forth across the back of Adam's hand, not cutting, but every stroke made Randor's blood boil. His son's fingers were twitching, flexing, but he clearly couldn't move. What more could he say to make this maniac back down from this course?

He cleared his throat. "I know, now, that you can do whatever you want. I see that there is no way I can stop you."

The imposter looked up and smiled broadly. "No, you're quite right, you can't stop me," he said slowly. "You can only get your son killed." As if to emphasize this point, he yanked Adam's head back abruptly and set the dagger against his throat, the tip pricking the skin. A single drop of blood beaded up at the pressure point.

Randor's world narrowed suddenly to that tiny space and those two children. Teela had braced her back against the corner and was shoving with all her might against the forcefield which wouldn't budge. And Adam. . . Adam's jaw was set with angry defiance, but his eyes were tightly closed, as though he didn't want to see his fate coming. His entire body was trembling. "Please, no," Randor whispered. His voice strengthened, and he said, "Don't! Please don't!"

The imposter didn't speak, just smiled down at the shaking boy before him, turning the blade against his throat, as though trying to decide at which angle to cut. There was a bizarre glee in his eyes, and Randor was suddenly terrified that the monster was finding the simple idea of killing far too tempting. Teela slammed her fist against the forcefield. There had to be some way to distract the weasel from his rapt contemplation of his power over Adam's life.

"I won't interfere with your plans in any way," Randor said in a calm, placatory voice. "Please stop."

Apparently startled out of his reverie, the imposter looked up. He looked irritated, but he glanced down at Adam and pursed his lips. Then he released him with a shove. Adam fell sideways out of the chair to land in a heap on the floor, one hand going to the trickle of blood on his throat. An alarming amount of blood seemed to be issuing from between his fingers, but Randor heaved a sigh of relief. The wound was clearly not mortal, nor even very serious.

"Still, you appear to have truly learned your lesson at last." He turned a contemptuous glance on the prince, still sprawled on the floor, laboriously pulling himself out of easy reach. Randor wanted to scoop Adam into his arms and carry him to the infirmary, but that would have to wait on the imposter's whim. Instead, he gazed with hatred on their tormentor. "I suppose I can afford to be magnanimous," the imposter drawled. He took two steps back, created a portal, and stepped through it.

Randor leaned forward, hoping against hope that the imposter had left the communication link open. "Adam?" he said. "Can you still hear me?"

Adam looked up in surprise, hand still pressed against the cut on his neck. "Father! Don't listen to that jerk! Don't do what he says! This isn't your fault!"

"I have no choice," Randor said with emphasis. "Hold on, son. I'm going to get you out of there."

"But – "

"Don't antagonize him! We've tried his patience too far already. Don't push him any further!"

"But, Father – "

Duncan jumped in to say, "Adam! Don't argue. Listen to your father." Biting his lip, Duncan asked, "Teela, are you all right?"

At that moment, the forcefield gave way and Teela barely stopped herself from falling flat on the floor. "I'm fine!" She ran to Adam's side. "Is everyone there okay?" She tried to pry Adam's hand off his neck. "Let me see!"

"We're all fine," Duncan said. "Don't worry about us."

Adam slapped Teela's hands away. "Father, how's Mother?" he asked urgently.

"She's fine, Adam. She's in Avion on a state visit." Adam blinked, but he didn't say anything. "Adam," Randor wet his lips, "I love you."

"This could end at any time," Duncan said. "Be ready to get out of there quickly. Everything will be fine." he gave Randor an ironic glance. "And just for the record, I love you, too. Actually, I love you both."

"Are you one-upping me, Duncan?" Randor asked wryly. Duncan just raised his eyebrows and looked bland.

Adam looked up at the ceiling with an exasperated expression, face flaming. "Ummm, I love you, too, Dad." Then, after a moment, "You, too, Duncan."

Teela opened her mouth. "I thi – " The sound cut off abruptly, and Randor grimaced and slammed his fist on the workbench beside him. It took the children a few moments to realize that the communication had been cut off. He watched Adam slam his fist repeatedly against the floor until Teela made him stop.

"Like father, like son," Duncan said. Then he got up, gave his king a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and went back to work. Randor watched them until lunch came.


	15. The Unexpected

**Chapter 15 The Unexpected**

Adam glared up at the ceiling. "That maniacal jerk! What is he trying to do?"

Teela shrugged. "Let me get a look at your neck."

Struggling to his feet, he went and sat on the bed. "I'm fine, Teela, leave me alone."

"You're bleeding," Teela said reasonably, picking up a bandage and walking over. "Let me stop the blood and then –"

He snatched the bandage out of her hand. "Teela, I don't want to be fussed over right now. I just want – I want –" Realizing what was coming, he flung himself face-down into a pillow to hide the tears that started flowing down his face. Teela stood silently beside the bed for a moment, then, without speaking, she climbed onto the bed behind him and cuddled up close. He wanted to be alone; he was afraid that having someone he cared about this close would break him down. But he could not bring himself to object to her comforting presence.

He wept silently for a long while. When he realized that Teela was getting the back of his neck wet, and that it wasn't her hair tickling him, he turned. "Not you, too?" he exclaimed. "We really are going to die."

She punched him lightly in the shoulder, glaring at him. "No, we're not. My father said so."

Adam sighed. "And you can't argue with Man-at-Arms," he muttered, turning back over. "He's dangerous."

Teela was silent for a moment as they cuddled. Then she spoke in even, pleased tones. "Yes," she said. "He is."

* * *

If they had to be stuck in this horrible situation, Randor was glad to see that they could offer one another some comfort, he reflected. Duncan stopped working periodically to take a look at them. Lunch was delivered around noon, and he saw that Teela and Adam's lunch materialized at almost the same time. They got up to eat, and then settled down at the table to continue their research.

Randor expected that they would have quite a number of new theories to present when they returned, and he looked forward to hearing them. He wished he could hear them now. After he finished eating, he found himself yawning. Duncan walked over and said, "It's time for your nap, your highness."

"Thank you, mama," Randor groused, but he lay out on the cot and fell asleep.

* * *

They were deep in a discussion of the famines that followed the first year of the Pelian war, when Adam suddenly fell silent.

"No, really, Adam," she said. "I think that the –" She paused and sighed. "You aren't listening to me are you?"

Adam had slumped against the chair back and was looking off at the wall without really seeing it. "What do you suppose he was going to do to my hand?"

"I think it would better not to think about that," Teela said uncomfortably.

"He must have told my dad something specific, made some specific threat." Adam shuddered and started rubbing his hand, trying to rub away the feeling of the blade on his skin. "It was really creepy the way he was running the blade back and forth on my skin."

"No kidding." Teela shifted in her chair, obviously not wanting to talk about this, but Adam just couldn't let it go.

"Was he going to cut it off?" he asked, sickened by the image of a stump where his hand should be. "I wouldn't have bled to death, necessarily. He could have cauterized it no problem."

"Adam!" Teela exclaimed. "Stop it. Don't dwell on it."

"What if Dad annoys him again? Is he going to come back and really do it?"

"Maybe, I don't know! I don't want to think about it." She stood up and started pacing. "I can't believe the king begged him. I mean, he actually used the word 'beg.'"

Adam nodded, sick at his stomach. "If I could just turn –" he cut himself off abruptly, realizing what he'd been about to say. "Um. . .turn the tables on that idiot." He looked down at the table. He'd been trying to ignore the headache that had been growing. He picked up a book, a novel this time, and got up. "I'm going to lie down. Teela, would you read to me?"

Teela looked worried. She took the book and helped him over to the bed. "I just want to lie down, Teela, I don't need help." She kept a hand on his arm, though, and tucked him in. "You've been watching my mother too much," he muttered.

She'd barely gotten three sentences into the book before he fell asleep.

* * *

By the next morning, Randor was feeling a great deal better. Dorgan was still giving him shots every few hours, but he no longer felt like a produce cart had crashed into him and then dumped its contents on his back.

Adam had evidently persuaded Teela to help him do some small exercises to strengthen his legs, and when they weren't using them, they packed up the books and papers in the trunk, obviously taking Man-at-Arms advice to be ready to leave very much to heart.

Randor watched Duncan fashion the drill bits out of the elpinar and wished he could come up with a better plan. They needed to hear from Manny's team that they had found the underwater prison.

Duncan looked up suddenly, his eyes taking on a distant expression. Then he dropped his tools and rushed madly to the desk, yanked a drawer open and fumbled a map up onto the surface. Snatching up a pen, he drew a rough shape on it in the middle of the Sea of Rakash. Then he stood, gazing down at the map for a moment, seeming lost in thought. Then his eyes sharpened their focus again and he looked at Randor. He must have seen a mildly alarmed expression in the king's face, for he said, "The Sorceress contacted me telepathically. Evidently there was a moment yesterday when she got a firmer feeling for where Adam was."

Randor crossed the space between his seat and the desk in two long strides. "This is a narrowing down of the region of the search."

"Yes!" Duncan exclaimed triumphantly. Then his eyes widened. "My god, I hope the imposter isn't eavesdropping!"

Randor stared at Duncan in horror. He grabbed a pen and a sheet of blank paper. _How do we get this info to Manny?_

Duncan read the message, and took the pen. _Leave that to me._ He sat down at the console and began typing quickly. After a few moments, he sat back and pressed one button. "That should take care of it."

Randor sat down, feeling suddenly drained. "Well, good."

The door suddenly opened and slammed back against the wall. The imposter ran in, heading straight for Randor. He was afraid for a moment that the weasel had been listening and was coming to wreak some havoc on them, but then the terror in the man's eyes registered in Randor's mind. Grabbing the king, he shielded himself behind him.

"What the – !" Randor exclaimed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Duncan demanded.

"Even your son isn't that much of a coward," Evil-Lyn drawled from the doorway, and Randor's eyes widened as he saw her. Her voice was a blend of amused contempt and irritation. "Where have you mislaid the boy this time?"

Man-at-Arms stepped across in front of Randor. "What do you want, witch?"

"Oh, don't worry, I've no interest your king or the fake prince, and only the mildest interest in the real prince." She smiled lazily, looking the engineer up and down. "Now you, on the other hand. . ."

"You stay away from him!" The declaration sounded in unison from two throats.

She raised an elegant eyebrow. "My, my, aren't we protective?" Her eyes met Randor's. "Of whom, though, I wonder . . ." Randor met her curious look with a glare, not responding.

"What do you want?" Duncan demanded again, taking a step toward her. She raised her staff and sent a levin bolt at him. Ordinarily, Duncan would have dodged easily, but he stood his ground to prevent the king from taking the blow. He was thrown backward. Randor dodged sideways and seized up one of Duncan's tools to use as a weapon. The imposter, however, was not quick enough, and Duncan landed on top of him, knocking him to the ground.

Evil-Lyn had already begun her theft, sweeping the filings and twisted scraps of elpinar into a nearby box, she scooped up both the drill bits that Man-at-Arms had created. "Hoping to see a great deal more of you, Duncan darling!" she called over her shoulder as she ran back out. Randor followed her but she had vanished into the population of the palace. He searched for a few moments, alerted the guard to the intruder, and then returned to the lab.

How would the imposter take this? It had taken days to find the elpinar in the first place. Another delay wasn't going to please him.

Duncan lay unconscious on the floor. The imposter knelt over him, slapping him, trying to get him to wake up. "You've got to stop her!" he yelled.

Randor strode over and knelt down on Duncan's other side. "Stop it," he said. "It's too late already, and that's not the way to treat an unconscious man in any case."

Dorgan walked in with a lunch tray a moment later to find the imposter sitting back in annoyance and Randor checking Duncan's eyes.

"What have you done now?" he demanded of the imposter, setting down the tray and hurrying to Duncan's side.

"It wasn't him, this time," Randor said. "It was Evil-Lyn. She stole the elpinar."

"And you let her get away," the imposter complained.

Randor groaned let his face fall into his hands. "I'm not exactly at my peak."

"Yes, and whose fault is that?" Dorgan demanded, glaring at the imposter, who turned and raised an eyebrow at Randor.

Randor got the message. "Mine," Randor said. "If I'd been more sensible to start out with, I wouldn't be in such bad shape." Dorgan's jaw dropped. He opened his mouth to make what looked to be an angry rebuttal, but Randor gave him a steely glare and the healer pursed his lips.

"Very good, Randor," the imposter said. "I had begun to despair of you ever achieving a proper attitude. Now, what are we going to do about the elpinar?"

"We never called Sy-Klone back," Duncan said, sitting up slowly. He'd come to while no one was paying him much attention. "He may yet return with some."

"We could attack Snake Mountain and retrieve mine," the imposter suggested.

"'We?'" Duncan asked, brows raising.

Randor shook his head. "The palace is already insufficiently guarded. I'm not sending anyone to Snake Mountain just now."

"What about He-Man? You should send for him."

Duncan shook his head. "I've tried, to get him to help look for the ingredients, but I can't reach him."

"You probably don't want He-Man showing up in any case," Randor said, his eyes narrowing. "He seems fairly fond of Adam, and I don't think he'd approve of you." The imposter glared at them all. "Besides, I don't think we want to invite further attention from Skeletor just now. By the way, how did Evil-Lyn know you weren't Adam?"

The imposter's eyes widened. "What?" he quavered.

"Didn't you hear her? She said you were more of a coward than Adam."

The imposter turned a dark, brick red and said, "Never mind that. She's not likely to broadcast it unless she sees some benefit to herself." He turned to go. "I'll give you another week, seeing as you have to fetch new ingredients."

"Thank you," Randor said. "That's most generous."

When the imposter reached the door, he turned back. "You, Man-at-Arms, walk me back to my room. It's not like there's anything keeping you here right now," he added in a disgusted tone. Duncan shared an annoyed glance with Randor, but followed the weasel out.

When they were gone, Dorgan turned to Randor. "What's gotten into you?" he demanded. "Seeing you toady to that half-baked moron –" Randor picked up a pad of paper and began writing, irritated by the necessity.

_He came close yesterday to cutting Adam's fingers off. _Dorgan blanched as he read over the king's shoulder. _I decided – Adam matters more than my pride._ Dorgan nodded. _We're keeping him happy – for now._

When Duncan returned, he said, "Let's go to your study, Randor. I can't bear the sight of that thing." Before they left, though, Duncan put out a call to Sy-Klone to reiterate the need for the elpinar.

They went to Randor's study where they settled to eat their lunch. Dorgan looked in on them periodically, to make sure that Randor wasn't overdoing. They spent the rest of the afternoon watching their children read, discuss and bicker over the journals of Elegius.

* * *

Randor was sitting in his study the next morning, watching Adam and Teela eating breakfast. He'd spent more time watching them in the last few days than he'd spent during the course of their lives, he'd begun to think. And yet he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Suddenly, they both jumped up and ran to one of the walls. Teela placed an ear against it, and they both looked excited. Could it be? The rescue party? Adam ran over and started placing things hastily in the chest. Randor jumped up, to go call Duncan. Then he stopped so abruptly that he fell back into his chair. A portal had opened right behind Adam. Both Teela and Adam, in their different locations, had their backs to the center of the room.

He cried out a warning, but of course they could not hear him.

* * *

Adam threw Cringer's picture and the potted plant into the trunk and turned to see if there was anything else they needed to take with them. He came face to face with the imposter.

Letting out a cry of alarm, he tried to jump backward, but the chest was in his way and he lost his balance. Before he could fall, the imposter seized the front of his pajamas and threw him face first to the floor, dazing him.

"What are you doing?" Teela demanded.

He grabbed Adam's hair and jerked him back to his knees, placing one hand across his eyes. "You will do exactly as I say, girl, or your prince will lose his looks and his sight in one blow." The hand across Adam's face was already warmer than human normal. Adam wanted to fight back against the villain, but the dizziness caused by the blow to his head had only worsened when the imposter had covered his eyes.

"What do you want me to do?" Teela asked, her voice sharp with alarm.

Adam could hear him speaking, and felt the movement of his gesture, and wondered what he was doing. There was a loud, resounding crash, and the imposter shoved him forward abruptly. He landed face first on what felt like a dirt floor. The imposter landed with his legs on either side of him, then placed a foot firmly in the center of his back. "Your father is an excellent actor, boy, but he's just lost you a hand."

Panic surged through Adam, and he scrabbled against the hard ground, finding no purchase.


	16. Rescue?

**Chapter 16 Rescue?**

Randor watched transfixed as the imposter shoved Adam through a portal. Had he brought him back to the palace? He somehow doubted that. The viewer showed nothing but blackness for an instant, and then revealed an entirely new view. Adam lay face down on the floor in the middle of what appeared to be another small room. The floor was dirt, sunlight shone in through the windows. A portal was visible just behind Adam's feet.

The imposter jumped through and landed across the boy. Where was Teela? The portal closed as the imposter restrained Adam by digging his heel into his back. Teela had been left behind. Randor prayed she was safe.

Adam struggled against his attacker, but he seemed to be making no headway. How that must hurt, Randor thought, that burn pressed against the ground like that. He found himself reaching forward, to yank the imposter off his son, but he clenched his fists helplessly and slammed them on the table. What was the villain going to do now?

Duncan slammed the door open and ran in. "Randor, they've found the prison – but Adam isn't there!"

Randor looked up at him, devastated. "I know," he said simply, and looked back down at the image in the viewer. "Did they find Teela?"

"Yes, she's fine." He walked forward and looked into the viewer. "They're on their way back with her now."

"I'm glad," Randor said without raising his eyes.

Duncan pulled up a chair and joined him. "Oh, no," he murmured.

* * *

Adam finally managed to buck the imposter off, and he rolled sideways to knock the creep to the ground. The fellow landed with a startled cry and Adam leapt up. There were windows to this place, and a door. He tried to run, but only managed a shambling lope. Once outside, he saw that he was in the Vine Jungle. Not a place he wanted to travel alone without his sword – he glanced back into the hut. Did the imposter have – no!

He saw that the imposter wasn't wearing the power sword as the monster flew out the door to tackle him. They rolled about on the ground, Adam punching anything he could reach. The imposter managed to get a hand onto his chest and ground the heel of his palm into the burn. Terror struck Adam like a blow to the gut, and he tried desperately to break away, fearful that another burn was coming, one he wouldn't survive.

The imposter sensed his advantage. He got Adam back over on his stomach and knelt across him. "You shouldn't have done that, boy," he growled into Adam's ear. "Now I'm going to take both your hands."

Adam's left hand was clamped between the imposter's knee and his side, but he struggled with all his might against the doppelganger as he dragged his right hand forward, holding his hand this time, not his wrist. He mumbled a word and Adam felt the heat begin to rise. He wasn't going to cut his hand off, he was going to incinerate it!

A scream burst out from his throat, and he realized that there could actually be people nearby to hear him. "Help!" he shrieked. "Help!"

Something plucked the imposter off him, wrenching the burning hand off his. Adam curled into a fetal position, cradling the injured hand.

* * *

"No!" Duncan cried. "No! It can't be!" Randor stared at the scene in shock. What was going to happen now?

* * *

Adam rolled into a sitting position and looked up at his rescuer. Beastman held the struggling false prince whose eyes were wide with mindless terror. He looked around and discovered that he sat in the center of a ring of Skeletor's minions. Skeletor himself walked forward and looked down at him, a pseudo-benevolent smile on his face.

"I thought I heard a cry for help," he said slowly. "As always, I was glad to oblige."

Adam stared up at the 'overlord of evil' and closed his eyes. Was his father prophetic? Weak and feeble before Skeletor indeed.

"Take him!"

Trap Jaw stepped forward and looked down at him. "Oh no," he groaned, clutching his hand. "Not you again!"

"I don't think he likes you, Trap Jaw," Evil-Lyn said, amusement coloring her voice. She walked over and knelt beside him, placing a hand on his chest, just to the side of the burn. "These don't appear to be silk, my prince," she said in a low purring voice, making Adam want to drag himself out of her reach. Unfortunately, Trap Jaw stood on the other side of him, effectively blocking his retreat. "Coming down in the world, are we?" she asked. Her hand stroked across the burn, and Adam winced away. "Is there something wrong?" When he just gritted his teeth and didn't respond, she glanced up at Trap Jaw. "Hold him down, there's something odd here." Adam tried to jerk himself out of Trap Jaw's grasp, but Evil-Lyn managed to open the front of his pajama top and revealed the bandage.

* * *

"That witch needs to keep her hands off my son!" Randor grated.

"I've got people on their way right now," Duncan said, turning back from his comlink. "They should be there in the next twenty minutes."

"Let's just hope that's soon enough."

* * *

"What's this?" Evil-Lyn asked, gazing down at the neat square of white bandage that Teela had applied that morning.

"Nothing!" he said, glaring up at her.

"You intrigue me." She ripped the bandage away and stared at the injury. Adam cried out as the adhesive tore at his skin and pulled at the edges of the burn. Her eyes widened in revulsion, and she looked up at the imposter. "You really are sick, aren't you?"

"What is it?" Skeletor demanded, striding forward. He stared down at Adam's chest. "Maybe we should give your old apprentice back to Randor," he said thoughtfully. "It might be interesting to see how that self-righteous do-gooder treats someone who's done this to his son. Especially if we make it look like he killed him."

"He can see us!" the imposter yelled suddenly. "He has an enchanted viewer. He can see everything that's happening!"

Skeletor looked up at – _Evil-Lyn's old apprentice?_ – and spoke musingly. "I was right, you really are a weasel, aren't you? How did you manage to stop being a ferret, anyway?" The imposter didn't respond, but Skeletor just waved a hand. "Well, if Randor can see us, I guess we'd best be on our way."

Adam cleared his throat. "I don't suppose you'd consider giving me back to my father in return for a thank you and a nice fat reward, would you?" Skeletor gave him an amused look. Adam gazed up at him for a long moment, then said, "I didn't think so." He took in a deep breath, and let out as loud a shout as he could. "Help!" He kept shouting until Evil-Lyn knocked him out.


	17. Choices

**Chapter 17 - Choices**

"Thank the Elders," Randor breathed as they loaded Adam, head lolling limply, onto a griffin with Trap Jaw. Duncan looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, but Randor shook his head. "It's Skeletor," he said insistently. "If he didn't kill him outright, we still have a chance to retrieve him. Call the masters back, now! And Marlena." Duncan nodded once and left the room rapidly. Randor continued to watch, adding mental tallies to Trap Jaw's criminal file for every indignity the villain perpetrated on his helpless son.

He watched until the walls of Snake Mountain blocked the reach of the viewer, or so he presumed. Then he set to planning.

When the masters had returned, he had them gather in the council chamber, all but Mekanek, who was still unconscious pending Adam's kiss, and Manny and Teela who were still on their way back. With an arm around Marlena at his side, he brought them all up to date on what had been happening.

As he finished, the room exploded with the masters' anger, and Randor had to bang on the table for silence. "Now is not the time for anger. Now is the time for –"

Orko came flying in through one of the windows, his eyes wide with alarm. "Your highness," he said in a worried voice. "This was outside the castle walls." He proffered a little white box tied up with a purple bow.

Randor took it, a grin quirking his lips. "The familiarity of this is almost comforting." Duncan lunged forward as he opened it.

"Randor!" he exclaimed in frustration. "One of these days, old skull face is going to get smart and put a bomb in one of those."

"Duncan!" Marlena exclaimed. "Don't even say that. Don't give that wretch any ideas!"

Randor unfolded the note that lay inside the box and read it.

Randor –

I am informed that you already know that I have your son, that you, in fact, saw the event. You will no doubt be pleased to know that I am prepared to return him, should you meet my conditions.

Meet me at the edge of that abyss we both know so well. I'd ask you to come alone, but I'm sure those 'masters' of yours never let you go anywhere by yourself. Don't worry, you can bring as many people as you like, just be sure to bring that digging device with you, and I'll bring your son.

I'm certain you can guess the rest.

Skeletor

"Duncan," Randor said. "Get that excavator ready for travel."

"What?"

"Skeletor wants it." He gave Duncan a meaningful look. "Get it ready for travel." Duncan nodded and left. "The rest of you, we're going to meet Skeletor by the abyss he threw me into."

Marlena clutched at him, but didn't speak. He turned to her and put his hand on her cheek. "My dear, we should have Adam back here before nightfall if all goes well."

"See that it does," she said. "I'll have things ready for you both."

"Send for Dorgan," Randor ordered.

* * *

Randor took Skeletor at his word. Every master that could be mustered was present, including Teela and Manny, who had returned just before everyone else departed. Teela was furious to learn that Adam had been taken by Skeletor.

As the rescue party landed, Randor jumped out of the wind raider and marched swiftly across to where Skeletor stood with his minions near the edge of the abyss. He knew without looking that his forces would flank him.

Hanging upright in the open air several feet beyond the edge of the cliff were two identical Adams, both dressed in plain white tunics and trousers. Randor stared at the pair of them, uneasily aware that no He-Man stood among the masters, to dive in and save Adam were he to fall. Then he turned and glared at his nemesis.

"You said you were going to return my son, Skeletor."

"I did, and I will, Randor," he said, his nasal voice crackling with amusement. "But I couldn't tell them apart. You're the boy's father. You ought to be able to identify your own son." Randor could hear the growls and complaints of the masters behind him and raised a hand to silence them. He gazed steadily across at the lord of Snake Mountain, waiting for him to enlarge on his point. "All you have to do, my dear Randor, is give me that excavator, and then choose the one you want to take with you. The other one will fall into the abyss, to be heard from no more."

Randor ground his teeth and looked across at the two who hung in the air. Skeletor always had to complicate things, didn't he? "Very well," he said, gesturing for Man-at-Arms to hand over the device. Duncan lifted the covering off it, and he and Man-E-Faces lifted it down from the wind raider. They pushed it across to where Clawful and Whiplash received it.

"Now choose, Randor. Which is the prince and which the imposter? Which shall live and which shall die?" The skull-faced villain threw his head back with cackling laughter. "I'm interested to see which wins out! Love for your son, or vengeance on his tormentor!"

Ignoring Skeletor's mirth, Randor stepped close to the edge of the abyss and scrutinized the faces. He thought that the one on the left was his son, he couldn't have said why, but he was sure. Just to make certain, however, he pulled out the already activated viewer that he had kept an eye on all the way here, just to be sure that Skeletor had started out keeping his end of the bargain. He didn't expect that to last, but one of these two was undeniably Adam.

The view was still from above, and the drop beneath them made Randor take a deep breath. They were so close together that it was hard to tell which. The view had always centered on Adam as he moved around his prison. Randor had paid little attention to that fact, but it occurred to him after the viewer's image had followed the boy to his new location that perhaps the spell of the thing was centered on Adam himself.

The wind whipped up and shifted the garments of the one on the right, and Randor knew. Tucking the viewer away, he spoke to Skeletor over his shoulder. "Give me the one on the left."

Skeletor grinned at him, and Randor whipped his head around just in time to see both of their eyes open as they started to fall. Simultaneous screams ripped from their throats as they dropped from view. "Sorry, your time is up!" Skeletor cried, and Randor threw himself at the bone-faced menace, seizing the staff and attempting to wrest it from Skeletor's grip.

At that same moment all three of the flying masters took off and dove into the abyss. Pandemonium broke loose as the fight began. Evil-Lyn fired several shots from her staff, trying to knock the fliers out of the sky, but Man-at-Arms knocked her flat with one blast from his hand cannon.

Skeletor gave an almighty heave and shoved Randor away. Raising a hand in the air, Skeletor commanded, "Summon the steeds! We have what we came for."

Duncan gestured that the masters allow the retreat, and Randor watched them go, then rushed back to the edge to look down. As he reached the precipice, two clumps of people shot skyward. Sy-Klone was firmly restraining the one he'd caught, but Stratos and Buzz-Off were merely supporting Adam. Randor dashed across to Adam's side and pulled him into a fierce embrace. He didn't plan on letting him go again until he was twenty.

* * *

Adam caught a glimpse of his father's horrified face as he plummeted downward. Was this the abyss he'd saved his father from as He-Man? He screamed; he couldn't help it. This was like every nightmare he'd had about that day. Except that the imposter was falling beside him, clutching at the air and screaming his lungs out.

If he had to die like this, at least that rotten jerk would die with him.

Three blurs shot past them both and came back up to meet them. Adam found himself in the firm and welcome grasp of Stratos and Buzz-Off. Unfortunately, Sy-Klone had also caught the imposter.

"Prince Adam, are you all right?" Buzz-Off said.

"I'm fine," Adam said weakly. "Boy am I glad to see you guys!"

"We're glad to see you as well, my prince," Stratos said. "You were sorely missed."

"But I thought nobody knew I was gone!"

"The imposter isn't much of an actor." They slowed and stopped, and Buzz-Off held him while Stratos flew up to peer over the edge.

"Why are we stopping?" Adam asked, as the Andrenid hovered.

"The fight isn't over, and we don't want to take you into harm's way." Sy-Klone, too, had stopped, holding the imposter suspended in the eye of a whirlwind.

"Is Teela okay?"

"Yes, she's fighting on the surface," Buzz Off said. Adam looked up and gulped, wishing he had his sword and could be the defender of Eternia. It felt pathetic to be hiding down here.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked to take his mind off that thought.

"Your scent. The imposter evidently did not duplicate your scent."

"You can recognize me by my body odor?" Adam demanded incredulously.

"So can Cringer. You've got a very worried tiger waiting for you back home."

"Come on up!" Stratos cried. Buzz-Off began winging his way upward and Stratos came down to help him. When they reached the surface and Adam was once more on solid ground, he found that his legs wouldn't support him. They held him upright until he was pulled off his feet into a tight hug by his father.

Adam had never been so happy to see anyone in his life. "Father!" he exclaimed, then felt an odd rushing in his head as the pain of his injuries came back to his awareness suddenly and with a vengeance.

His vision blackened and he felt himself start to go limp. His father swung him up into his arms like a baby. "Adam, are you all right?"

He looked up into his father's worried eyes. "I'll be okay. You can put me down now. I think I can stand up." They started moving toward one of the wind raiders. "Father? You can put me down."

"No, Adam." Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the set of his father's jaw told him the futility of it. Giving up, he rested his head on his father's shoulder. It wasn't, after all, so bad.

"Isn't it sweet!" an obnoxiously familiar voice called out contemptuously. "The _honorable_ king of Eternia and his pathetic son."

His father's grip tightened, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. He didn't, however, respond to the gibe. Angry retorts came from all around them aimed at the imposter.

"Teela, no!" called Duncan. Adam peered over his father's shoulder to see what was happening and saw Man-at-Arms restraining Teela, still in those awful pajamas, from pummeling the doppelganger. He wished, briefly, that it wouldn't be wrong to let her beat him to a bloody pulp.

"Throw him back over the edge!" called Ram-Man.

Stratos placed an arresting hand on his large friend's shoulder. "Unfortunately, that would be wrong. We must not sink to his level."

Suddenly, there was a flash of energy, and Sy-Klone cried out in surprise. Randor whirled. The masters converged in a mass between them and the imposter. "What happened?"

"He changed!" Sy-Klone exclaimed. "Into a ferret!"

"After him!" Stratos cried, taking off, jet packs firing. Manny changed into Man-E-Monster and charged.

Before any of the other masters could follow, Duncan stepped forward and yelled. "Wait, some of you must stay to guard the prince and the king! Sy-Klone, you go with them. The rest of you, return to the palace with us."

Randor placed Adam carefully into the back seat of the wind raider and climbed in hastily to sit beside him. Adam thumped his head back down on his father's shoulder, a jumble of furious emotions coursing through him. Randor put his arm around him and rested his cheek against the top of Adam's head. Teela and Duncan jumped into the front seat and they took off with a roar of engines. Buzz-Off flew beside them all the way home.

When they landed, Dorgan and several medics hustled him out of the wind raider and onto a stretcher. They carried him rapidly into an exam room in the infirmary, his mother close beside him all the way. They stripped him bare and examined every square inch of his body, removing the bandage on his arm. The bandage on his chest was still missing. It all felt disgustingly familiar.

His mother could not be persuaded to leave this time, which caused him unending embarrassment as she fussed over his wounds. Once the medics had determined the extent of his injuries, Dorgan ordered a bath for him. After a bit of argument, Adam managed to get his mother to leave while he bathed, but there was no throwing his father and Dorgan out, especially since the old healer insisted on bathing him himself.

They got him bandaged and dressed in a comfortable pair of old pajamas and put him to bed. Adam groaned as his mother started plumping pillows.

"Marlena," Randor said gently. "I think he has enough pillows."

"Oh," his mother said, gazing down at him. "What about blankets? Does he need more blankets?"

"Mother, I'm fine. Just sit down and stay with me." Her eyes filled up with tears and she sank into the chair by his bed, reaching out and taking his hand. Adam wrinkled his brows. "Mom, it's okay, really. I'm fine." He looked up helplessly at his father for advice, but his father had a hand on the end of his bed and looked like he really needed the support. "Father, what's wrong?"

His face was gray with exhaustion, and he shook his head. "I'm fine, Adam. I –"

"All right, Randor, it's time for your exam," Dorgan said, coming in and taking the king by the arm. Medic Jonis took his other arm, and they hustled him out. Startlingly, he didn't object.

"What's going on?" Adam asked, turning to his mother, who was gazing worriedly after her husband. After a moment of watching her face, Adam flipped the covers off of himself and started to get out of bed.

"Adam, no!" she cried, and pushed him back, tucking him back in. Her eyes kept straying to the door way, however.

"Mother, what happened to him?" She didn't answer, just bit her lip and looked concerned. "Mother!" She sat resolutely on the side of the bed and wouldn't let him up. "Mother, I can tell you want to follow them. If you let me up, we can go together." Her eyes focused on his face, and she softened.

"You're a good boy, Adam," she said, and kissed him on the forehead. Then she turned and called, "Duncan?" Man-at-Arms stepped immediately through the door and stood ready for his queen's command. "Is Teela well?"

"Yes, the medics have finished examining her. She's entirely well."

"Good." The queen sighed. "Will you stay with Adam? I want to go to Randor."

"Mother!" Adam exclaimed, feeling betrayed.

"Adam, stay here with Man-at-Arms. He'll tell you what's happened to your father." She stood and went out, leaving Duncan gazing down in consternation at his royal charge.

Adam flipped back the covers and started to get up. "Adam," Duncan said in a pained voice. "Don't make me put you back to bed."

Glaring, Adam subsided and twitched the blankets back into place. "Are you actually going to tell me what happened to my father?" Duncan looked distinctly uncomfortable. "What, did he order you not to?"

"No," Duncan said slowly, reluctantly. "No, he didn't."

"Well, then tell me."

"The thing is, if he'd thought of it, he would."

"Duncan!" Adam growled. "Tell me." A thought occurred to him. "Wait, where's my sword?"

Duncan reached down and pulled it out from under the bed. Adam sighed and muscles he hadn't even known were tense relaxed. Duncan stashed it away again, and then looked into Adam's eyes. "Will you promise not to get out of bed if I do tell you?"

"Duncan, what happened?"

"Promise first. I'll make sure they put him in here with you at least at first. In fact, I doubt they'll be able to keep him out."

Just at that moment, there was a commotion in the main room of the infirmary, and a green blur shot through the door and landed on the bed, causing it to slide slightly sideways. "Cringer!" Adam cried, and started rubbing the cat who was licking his face and rubbing him enthusiastically. Duncan sat back and watched indulgently. After a few moments, when Cringer had calmed down and was just purring happily against his side, Adam turned back to his mentor, gazing into his eyes, willing him to impart the information he was holding back. Duncan sighed, and said, "Your father suffered many of the same injuries you yourself did."

"What do you mean?" Adam demanded.

"Just what I said. He wasn't attacked by a great cat, but -"

"What? Are you saying that little ferret burned my father, too? But Dad kept saying everyone here was all right!"

"I don't think he wanted to worry you." Adam thumped his head against the pillow. All those times he could have strangled the creep, and he hadn't. "Adam, there was nothing you could do. It wouldn't have helped for you to know."

Adam just ignored him. He needed to concentrate hard on getting better, so that he would be able to hunt that weasel down and destroy him. He wondered when Dorgan would let him go back to physical therapy.

Two medics entered the room, carrying a stretcher on which lay Mekanek. Adam's eyes widened and he stared at the master who lay unconscious. "What happened?"

"Oh," Man-at-Arms said in an irritated tone. "The imposter decided to take his cue from Evil-Lyn. Mekanek won't wake until -"

Adam stared at his mentor in shock, then looked at Mekanek. "Okay," he moaned. "Bring him over." He sat up and, embarrassed, deposited a kiss on the master's cheek.

Mekanek sat up sharply, narrowly missing bumping heads with Adam. Seeing the prince's face, he threw himself backwards shrieking and fell right off the stretcher. The medics scrambled out of the way as he landed on the floor.

Duncan stood in surprise, and Adam leaned over the edge of the bed. "Mek? Are you all right?"

"Adam?" the master said apprehensively. "Is that you?" Adam just stared at him, alarmed by this show of fear.

Man-at-Arms put out a hand and pulled Mekanek to his feet. "It's Adam, all right. The imposter has fled."

Mekanek looked down at his prince intently. "Did he hurt you because I found out? I mean –" He turned to Man-at-Arms. "How long was I out, Duncan?"

"No more than a few days." He sighed. "An intense few days, admittedly."

"So he didn't burn Adam's face," Mekanek said in a relieved tone, looking down at Adam.

"My face? No, I didn't even know you'd found out. How?"

"I overheard him talking to himself about how getting rid of Teela would do you a favor, and I figured that you'd either lost your mind or that wasn't you."

"He threatened to kill Teela?" Adam asked, horror struck. "He got away! Where is she?" Duncan's eyes were wide. He went to the door and issued some orders. "Duncan!" Adam exclaimed. "Go find her!"

"The queen ordered me to stay with you, Adam. I can't leave."

Mekanek nodded in understanding. "I'll go find her, Man-at-Arms," he said reassuringly and left swiftly.

Adam looked up at Duncan who sat down again, looking worried. "He never touched her," he said, half to himself.

"Not really," Adam said.

Duncan seized instantly on the lack of certainty. "Not really? What do you mean?"

"He just – one time, he was going to put his hands on her shoulders, and –" Duncan's eyes widened in alarm. "Anyway, I knocked her out of the way, he grabbed me and she grabbed him." Duncan was staring at him. "Nothing happened, anyway, he just – wait, I don't know that nothing happened! He knocked me out."

"Oh!" Duncan let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh, that time. He just left. Nothing happened to her."

"What do you mean? How do you know?"

"Ummm. . . ." Duncan looked suddenly very uncomfortable. "We were watching."

"Watching?" Adam gulped. "The imposter told Skeletor that Father could see us in the Vine Jungle, but I thought he was lying."

"No, it was true. We were both watching."

"How long were you watching?"

Randor walked into the room supported by Dorgan and looking worn out. "Adam, you should be sleeping, not quizzing Man-at-Arms."

"What about you?" he asked. "You look ready to fall over."

"You should both be sleeping," Dorgan said testily. "But I've given up on having either of you two follow my orders."

"Adam has never disobeyed your orders," Randor protested. "And we've had this discussion."

"Father, at least lie down," Adam said. "Where are his injuries, Dorgan?"

"Never mind that, Adam," his father said as Dorgan walked him over to the second bed. Marlena was close behind him and tucked him in as he lay down.

Teela walked in, followed by Mekanek. She was dressed in her usual garb, and raised an eyebrow at Adam. "You okay?" she asked gruffly.

"Yeah," he said. "You?"

"I'm fine. We got all the stuff out of the room. I even –" she brought something out from behind her back with a flourish "– brought you this." Adam was expecting the picture of Cringer. He blinked when he saw the board with the doorknob on it. They'd painted it very carefully, a brilliant gold and red, with the word _EXIT_ on it in tiny letters. Adam took it, not sure what to think. She shrugged. "Now you always have a way out," she said.

He looked in her eyes and saw there an acknowledgment that this meant something to her, this remnant of their prison. He smiled suddenly, and the line between her eyes smoothed out. "Thanks, Teela," he said in a careless tone, knowing that neither of them wanted to share this emotion with anyone else. She shrugged and gave him a grateful grin.

"That's very nice, Teela," his mother said, looking perplexedly at the painted chunk of wood. Teela shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of all the adults in the room, for once not pleased to be the center of attention.

Adam decided that she'd had enough embarrassment lately, and now was clearly not the time to pursue the questions he wanted to ask his father. "So," he said loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "Does anyone know where I could find a chocolate sundae?


	18. Responsibility

**Chapter 18 - Responsibility**

Randor watched fondly as his son and Teela dug into the ice cream that had been hastily brought for them. He caught Duncan's attention and gestured him over. His man-at-arms gave both children a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and walked over to the chair by his king's bed.

"Yes, sire?" he said quietly.

"What's the situation at Snake Mountain? Will they be able to use the excavator?"

A broad smirk creased Duncan's face. "I think I can safely promise you that they won't," he said.

"So, what did you do to it?" Randor asked.

Raising an eyebrow, Man-at-Arms said, "The minute one of them tries to tinker with it or put in a drill bit, it will explode in their face."

"Do we know that they haven't take it directly to Arleron village? Or that they won't force one of the villagers to –"

"The moment we touched down, I sent Buzz-Off and Ram-Man to execute the evacuation plan. There was no need for secrecy any longer, so he's already finished it. The villagers are safely in Andrenos as we speak."

"Oh, good."

"And I have someone watching Snake Mountain from a safe distance. They went straight there."

"I think we'd better find a new location for Arleron village, Duncan. And that we had better dig that thing up before someone else does, so we can destroy it."

"What!" Dorgan's angry voice brought every conversation in the infirmary to a halt. "What do you mean, he got away?" The healer marched into Adam and Randor's room and stopped at the foot of the king's bed. Randor sank down further in the bed under the healer's irate glare. "What happened to that dastardly imposter?" he demanded.

"He changed into a ferret and escaped," Duncan said. "Sy-Klone, Manny and Stratos are pursuing him."

"You let him shift his shape and get away?"

Adam let out a bark of laughter that cut off as everyone turned astonished glares at him. "Um. . ." he said. "I don't think it was a voluntary change."

"What do you mean, Adam?" Randor asked him.

"There was something Skeletor said before Evil-Lyn knocked me out." Randor controlled a surge of fury at the calm, matter of fact way Adam recounted being abused by that evil witch. It shouldn't seem so ordinary an event to the boy. "Skeletor asked him how he'd managed to stop being a ferret. I think either Skeletor or Evil-Lyn turned him into a ferret at some point."

"A ferret?" Mekanek said slowly. "But, why?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know. But he used to be Evil-Lyn's apprentice. Maybe he ticked her off or something."

"Evil-Lyn's apprentice?" Randor asked incredulously. "I didn't know she'd ever had an apprentice."

"You know what's weird," Adam said. "_She_ said _he_ was sick." There was a stunned silence in the room as they all took in that earthshaking notion. "Like she's not the creepiest thing that ever walked the planet." Teela nodded earnest agreement.

"Did Skeletor say anything else of interest?" Randor asked.

"No, I think that's it. I couldn't help thinking of your letter, though." Randor looked quizzically at his son. "Well, you were right, Skeletor was amused to see me weak and feeble."

"Adam!" Randor exclaimed. "I never thought – I never meant –"

"I know." Adam met his eyes and there was a brief moment of connection before the boy looked away.

"This is getting us far off the subject," Dorgan growled. "Randor, how could you let that weasel get away?"

Duncan stood up and took the old healer by the arm. "He hasn't definitely escaped, yet, Dorgan. And didn't you say earlier that they both needed to sleep?" Glaring at Man-at-Arms, the healer let himself be led toward the door.

"All right, Duncan, but they have to sleep." He looked around at the others filling the room. "That means that the rest of you need to leave as well." The queen nodded and settled firmly in the chair between the beds. Randor could see that no one was going to be able to move her.

Mekanek grinned at Adam and gave him a careful pat on the foot. "See ya later, kid."

Teela stood her ground as Dorgan made to chivvy her out. "I'm staying. I need to guard Adam."

"Young woman, he will be fine. You run along and –"

"I agree," said Marlena unexpectedly. "Randor, I think you and Adam both need to be assigned personal bodyguards. For the moment, Teela and Duncan will do, but once things have settled a bit, we'll have to select people with fewer responsibilities."

Randor gaped at his wife, whose determined expression brooked no argument. Beyond her, he could see Adam's horrified expression, and wondered if it mirrored his own. Dorgan, stymied by the queen's insistent stance, nodded, then left. The little group who had spent so memorable a time cooped up in the west tower room was alone together once more.

"Teela needs guarded herself!" Adam declared. "Mekanek said that the imposter threatened to get rid of her."

Teela gave him an incredulous look. "Are you offering yourself for the job?" she asked. "You just need to lie there for awhile, and – and grow skin!"

Randor raised an eyebrow at her vehemence, and Marlena looked at her measuringly. Teela began to shift uneasily under the queen's eye. "An admirable sentiment, Teela." She glanced back and forth between her husband and her son. "And it applies to both of you."

"I'm trying, my dear. I'm trying," Randor said. He felt his eyelids begin to droop. "Blast!" he muttered. "I think I'm falling asleep."

"Good. Set a good example for your son." Randor heard his son begin a complaining response, but he was asleep before the boy finished.

* * *

"Mother, I've been sleeping for days! There wasn't much to do in that box but sleep." His mother's eyes softened and she started tucking him in more thoroughly. "Mom!" Adam exclaimed. "Mom, I'm fine."

She bent to kiss him on the forehead, then turned to Teela. "Adam could ask for no better friend," she said. Teela turned scarlet. Adam hunched down lower in bed, hoping that his embarrassment didn't show. Marlena put her hands on Teela's shoulders and leaned up to kiss her on the forehead. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through that, but I am glad that you were there for Adam. I shudder to contemplate what condition he would be in now without your support." Adam slid lower in the bed, and Teela blushed redder. The queen gazed up into Teela's eyes. "You've grown so tall." She sat down again, smiling at Man-at-Arms. "Our children are turning out quite nicely, aren't they, Duncan?"

Man-at-Arms shrugged. "I like them well enough," he said, a half-smile tugging at his lips. Adam wished he could fall asleep on command as a form of self-defense. Otherwise he was going to die of humiliation. From her expression, he guessed Teela wanted to sink through the floor.

For some while, Cringer had been asleep on the bed, great head resting on Adam's hip, enormous paws limp across his legs. He began to dream suddenly, distracting Adam from everything else. The big cat whined and his paws started twitching, claws flexing in and out. "H-hey, Cringer! Wake up!" Adam exclaimed, gently shaking the cat's head.

The green head whipped up and Cringer's unfocused eyes stared into his for a moment, then the cat woke up completely and rubbed his hand affectionately. Adam applied himself firmly to the task of scratching Cringer's ears, knowing that his poor friend had to have been neglected while he was gone. "Don't worry, Cringer, everything's just fine." Cringer purred enthusiastically and crawled up so that he was lying all along and on top of Adam's body. Adam bit back a cry of pain as one of Cringer's paws found the burn on his chest. Cringer inched backward, eyes on his boy's face. He licked the back of Adam's hand apologetically. "It's okay, boy, you didn't know."

"Hey!" Teela said. "I know. We should send Cringer out after the imposter. After all, he knows his scent, and if he's a weasel, Cringer should be able to catch him easy!"

Cringer looked up eagerly, as though to proclaim his willingness to undertake the task.

"No, I think Cringer needs to stay with Adam," Man-at-Arms said, walking over and stroking the cat's head. "He's missed his master."

Adam's mother was looking fondly at her son and his pet. Adam glanced up at Teela. He had a feeling that the only thing restraining Teela from making sarcastic comments about sappy princes and their furry friends was the presence of his mother.

Gravity started pulling down on his eyelids, but Adam fought hard against sleep. He didn't want to go to sleep. He was tired of sleep. He wanted. . . .

* * *

Randor awoke suddenly in the night and fumbled immediately for the viewer. Activating it, he looked to see how Adam was. He blinked in surprise at the view it showed him of the darkened infirmary room, the corner of his own bed visible in the image. Adam shifted in his sleep, hand going to Cringer's soft fur. Marlena slumbered on a cot in between the beds, and Teela was sleeping on the other side of Adam's bed. Randor considered this. If the device continued to work, he could keep much better track of his son in the future. Adam was always haring off into trouble. . . .

"Randor, what are you –" Duncan broke off in the middle of his low-voiced question. "Randor," he repeated reproachfully. "Adam's five feet away from you."

Shrugging sheepishly, the king said, "I know. It was automatic." Deactivating the viewer, he started to tuck it away.

Duncan grabbed it out of his hand. "You're not seriously thinking of continuing to use it, are you?" he asked, his voice grave.

Randor looked at the viewer in Duncan's grasp. "I thought it might be useful in keeping an eye on Adam. I could –"

"Invade the boy's privacy? Look in on him during odd times of the day just to see what he was up to?"

"Of course not!" Randor exclaimed. An eyebrow raised dubiously, Duncan tucked the little stone away in his own clothing. Randor grimaced at the lack of trust, but simply sighed and rolled over to go back to sleep.

* * *

The first thing Adam heard when he woke up was the sound of birds singing sweetly in the trees outside the window. He opened his eyes to the sunlight streaming in and smiled at the feel of it on his face. Cringer wasn't on the bed, but then he sometimes wasn't in the morning.

"Happy to be home, son?" Randor asked. Adam looked over and saw that his father was sitting up in bed, a tray across his knees. They were alone.

"Am I ever," Adam said. "Where do I get one of those?" he asked, gazing at his father's tray. Randor just pointed, and Adam saw that another tray of food sat on his bedside table.

They ate silently for awhile, and Adam was just glad to be with his father again. Slowly, though, he began to wonder about his father's injuries. Duncan had said that he'd suffered many of the same injuries as Adam himself had, but he'd been no more specific than that. He kept watching his father, looking for signs of stiffness. The sleeve of the king's pajamas pulled up and Adam noticed the bandage on the forearm.

"Father?" Randor looked up as his son spoke. He raised an eyebrow. "What did the weasel do to you? I know you've seen my injuries." Adam felt the heat in his face as he remembered how carefully both of his parents had watched the healers examine him. "What happened to you?"

"It doesn't really matter, Adam. He's gone and you're home. That's all that counts."

Adam looked down at his plate and pushed his food around with his fork. "It does matter. I need to know."

"Adam –"

"What? I need to know what he did to you, just like you needed to know what he did to me."

"That's different. I was – he had direct control over you."

Adam put his tray aside, and turned to sit cross-legged on the bed facing his father. "Are you saying that he had less control over you?" He gazed into his father's worried eyes, hoping his own worry showed. "According to Teela, you collapsed. She didn't know any details, but she knew that. According to Man-at-Arms, you have many of the same injuries I do."

"Duncan shouldn't have told you anything," Randor said, spearing a bit of sausage up from his plate in a violent gesture.

"Why not?" Adam asked in frustration. "I'm not a little boy any more, to be shielded from 'scary stuff.' I'm right here in the middle of scary stuff, and I need to know what's going on. You keep telling me I'm going to be king someday, and that I have a lot to learn, but how can I learn if you won't tell me anything?"

"Adam, I –" Randor broke off, appearing to be at a loss for words. Adam just waited. He'd never known his father to be tongue-tied for long. The silence stretched uncomfortably. Finally, the king sat up straighter and said, "You're right, Adam, there are many things you need to learn. Top of the list at the moment is that you should never antagonize your captor in such a situation."

Adam gave his father an incredulous look. "I don't plan on being in that kind of situation ever again! And besides, the first time I 'antagonized him' was when I tried to escape. Are you saying that I should just give in tamely and wait to be rescued?" Adam shook his head. "For all I knew, he was asking you to do something that wasn't even possible. He wasn't exactly rational."

"Adam, in your condition –"

"What condition? Which condition? Being sixteen? Being a coward? Being too impetuous? Or do you mean my broken legs?"

His father looked taken aback, mouth slightly open. "I meant your physical condition, Adam. Your convalescence."

Adam glared. "My condition would have been much better if I'd actually managed to escape when I first tried. And then there's you. What about your condition? You collapsed! Why? Nobody has told me why."

Unaccountably, his father seemed embarrassed. "Well, Adam, I – I – hadn't eaten much over the previous day or so, and –"

Adam's jaw dropped. "He starved you, too? How'd he manage that?"

Randor blinked. "Not exactly. I just didn't eat. Then –"

"Wait. What did you say?

"I just didn't eat. I couldn't, not knowing that you weren't getting anything."

Adam tilted his head. "Knowing? Or seeing? How much did you watch me?" His father's eyes widened, and he looked down at his plate. "Both the weasel and Man-at-Arms said that you had an enchanted viewer that allowed you to look in on me."

"When did the weasel say something?"

"When Skeletor had us in the Vine Jungle. He told Skeletor that you could see everything that happened. Was that all the time, or –" Adam watched as his father looked away, seeming somewhat embarrassed by the question. "Did you see everything?"

His father didn't look back at him. "Well, I had to sleep occasionally, and I sent the viewer with Stratos to the Sorceress to help us find you." Adam looked down at this hands, utterly horrified, and trying desperately to remember what he'd done and just what his father might have seen. "I'm sorry, son, but I had to watch. I had to know that you were all right – or at least as all right as you could be."

Adam took several deep breaths. "So, you didn't eat while he wasn't giving me food. Do you know how stupid that sounds?"

"It was my fault that he wasn't feeding you. And I had to watch as the empty plates were delivered."

"It wasn't your fault!" Adam exclaimed, head whipping up. "Nothing that happened was your fault."

"Adam, I –"

"If there's one thing that all this studying I've been doing lately has taught me it's how to recognize faulty reasoning," Adam said firmly. "You didn't put me in that situation, he did. You didn't stop feeding me, he did. You are not to blame. That's all part of what he did to you, making you feel responsible for his evil actions."

* * *

Randor was startled by Adam's vehemence, and his insight. He gazed at his son, feeling almost as if he didn't really know him. He knew a little boy who'd run about with a cowardly cat getting into scrapes, but he wasn't sure he knew this fledgling adult who sat before him. The boy was so full of contradictions that Randor was never certain what to expect.

"I really need to know what happened to you, Father. As your heir –"

Sighing, Randor waved a hand. "Enough, Adam. I'll tell you." He looked down at his half-eaten breakfast and set it aside with not a little disgust. "He seemed to enjoy making us match," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. "I annoyed him when I demanded that he send you things to occupy your time. I threatened him, and he didn't like it. He caught hold of my arm and –" Randor shrugged, lifting the burned arm in mute explanation. Adam shuddered, his right hand creeping to the bandage covering his own burn. "Then he took you the things I'd gathered, and – and Dorgan and I were watching. We saw you try to escape, and we saw him retaliate." Randor gritted his teeth. "And that's when I collapsed."

"Oh," Adam said in a small voice. He looked withdrawn and quite young. It was hard to treat him like the man he wanted to be when he looked so very young.

Randor thought it wise to lighten the mood a little. "When I came to, Duncan was in the room, demanding to be told what was going on." He quirked a wry grin. "He gave me one of those little speeches of his – I'm sure you know the type – the ones in which he recapitulates everything that's wrong with the world in two sentences or less."

Adam snorted and nodded. "Oh yeah. I've experienced those a time or two. They usually end with something that explains why all of the above is your fault."

Randor nodded his agreement. "Exactly. Then you know what I'm talking about. It was quite a litany, too. Maybe later I can try to recount his list to you."

"That could be interesting. But what else happened? What else did the weasel do to you?"

Randor sighed. His son was very single-minded. Stubborn. _Where did that trait come from?_ Randor wondered ironically. _Must be from his mother._ "He found out that Duncan knew, and that's when he sent that panther in to attack you."

"Oh, is that why? I had wondered. It seemed so bizarre. But, so did he do anything to you because of that? Besides make you watch it happen?"

"No."

"So, why did it take you so long to tell Man-at-Arms? I mean, I would have thought you'd go straight to him and the two of you would be working out a plan together."

Randor shook his head. "It wasn't possible."

His son sat back and crossed his arms, looking at him suspiciously. "Why wasn't it possible? What did he say? What did he do?" This was a moment when he could have wished Adam's perception was a little less clear. He realized that he was worrying at the bed covers and forced himself to stop fidgeting. "Father?"

"He told me that if I told anyone that he would cripple you permanently." Adam's eyes widened, and his expression grew distant suddenly. Randor wanted to call him back from wherever his thoughts had taken him. "I couldn't risk it, Adam."

"So he really was going to cut off my hand, wasn't he?"

"No, he was just going to cut of a finger or two." Randor realized abruptly how dreadful that sounded, but he couldn't call the words back.

Adam blinked several times, staring at his father. He looked down at his hand, seeming to be surprised to find that it had balled up into a fist. "Oh," he said, sounding a little lost. "That's all right, then."

"I'm sorry, Adam, that came out badly."

Adam looked up and gave a good try at a nonchalant shrug. "No, it's okay. So, what more did he do to you?" Randor opened his mouth to answer, but Adam's eyes grew suddenly alarmed. "He didn't do anything to Mother, did he?"

"No, no, your mother is fine. In fact, I sent her away to Avion."

"Oh, right. Good."

"I didn't see you get burned the second time. It happened the morning when I'd sent the viewer to the Sorceress. She and Stratos saw –"

"The Sorceress saw that?" Adam exclaimed in surprise. "And Stratos saw it, too?"

Randor nodded. "Yes. When Stratos described the incident to me, I sent your mother away to keep her out of reach."

"I'll bet that ticked the weasel off."

"He was – irritated. I was afraid he was going to go after you again, so I asked him if he wanted to give me a new handprint. I'm afraid he thought I was making fun of him, though."

"And you told me not to antagonize him."

"And so he threw me into a wall and burned me on the back." Adam scowled angrily, but the look in his eyes was sick. Randor wished passionately that he could take this innocent, sweet-natured boy and put him some where that evil people like Skeletor and that weasel would never find him.

Of course, locking his son up in a tower somewhere wasn't really the answer either.

"So, is there anything else?" Adam asked. Randor wished he could deny it, but Adam would probably be checking up on his story with Dorgan and Man-at-Arms. Dorgan was impossible to control, and Duncan might decide that Adam needed to know for his own good. It was better not to lie to the boy in any case.

"Yes. When I hit the wall, I suffered a concussion. Unfortunately, Dorgan didn't realize that I had a head wound and he medicated me." Adam's shocked eyes were glued to his face. "Apparently I had a bad reaction. According to Dorgan, um . . . I nearly died."

Adam looked appalled. He sat staring at nothing for several moments, and Randor wasn't sure what to say to him. "So," Adam said eventually in a deceptively calm voice. "So, what are we going to do with the monstrous man when we catch him?"

"Well, of course he will be tried. I'm not sure that I can legitimately sit in judgment over him, however. I suppose –"

"I wish Sy-Klone had just let him fall."

"Adam!"

"Well, that would be a simpler solution. No one would have to sit judgment on him. No one would have to make any sort of decision. He'd just be dead, and that would be that." Randor didn't know what to say. He despised that cretinous weasel for bringing out this feeling in his son. "Of course, then Sy-Klone might feel bad about not catching him, and that would be fair to him."

* * *

Adam was stunned. His father had almost died? He might have become king while still locked in that stupid box, and he wouldn't even have known it. The imposter might have become king. Now, that was a truly horrifying thought. The weasel deserved to – to – to – There wasn't anything bad enough that they could do.

His father looked furious. Adam looked down at his hands and tugged the sleeve of his shirt down to cover up the bandage on his wrist. "I'm sorry, Father. I know that's not the sort of thinking I should be doing. We don't –"

"No! Don't apologize, Adam." The words were quiet, but they were spoken with such force that they rocked Adam back. "Your thinking is fine. I really can't fault you for wanting that vile monster dead. I want him dead." Adam looked up at his father's face in shock. "Wanting things like that is natural at a time like this. We just have the choice not to do them, not to go out and make it happen that way." Randor gave him a wry grin. "I'm not worried that you'll do that, Adam." No doubt, since his father thought him a coward. "You wouldn't have chosen to let him fall." Adam raised his eyebrows, contemplating that thought. Attractive though it was, he didn't suppose he would have. "And you recognize that it would distress Sy-Klone if he'd accidentally failed to save the fellow." Randor shrugged. "I am confident that you would have made the right decision."

"So wishing that he fell isn't wrong – isn't, well, kind of evil?"

"No, Adam. Choosing to act on that wish would be evil, but, as I said, such thoughts are natural." Randor snorted. "Especially after what you've been through." His father's worried eyes lingered on Adam's face for a few seconds, and Adam looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "It's when we allow our less positive desires to rule our actions that we slip over the line."

Adam couldn't believe his ears. "But, Father, are you really saying that the biggest difference between good and evil is the choices people make?"

His father looked surprised. "Well, yes, Adam. We are defined by the choices we make. You can choose to act for the benefit of others, or to work only for your own selfish desires, or even to deliberately cause as much pain and suffering as possible." Adam had a feeling that he knew who his father was referring to. "I believe that the true evil in a man, or a woman for that matter, lies in their decision to act, not in their thoughts and desires."

"I never really thought about it that way." Adam tilted his head. "So, have you ever wanted to do something that would be, you know, um, well," Adam shrugged, "evil?"

His father blinked, and for a moment Adam thought he wouldn't answer. But then his eyes twinkled and he said, "Of course. Duncan and I have a running contest to see who can come up with the most creative way to do away with the self-proclaimed 'overlord of evil.'" Randor leaned closer and said in a quieter voice, "Your mother has even contributed on occasion."

Adam stared in shock. "Really?" He had difficulty imagining his mother participating in such a competition.

Randor chuckled. "Women tend to be very creative, I've noticed."

Adam nodded. "Yeah. Teela can be vicious. But, Mom. . .? It's hard to imagine. She so. . .nice. You know, like, sweet."

"Yes." Adam's father gazed at him with a sappy look on his face that he normally saved for Marlena. "You have a lot in common with your mother, Adam."

"What do you mean?" Adam asked suspiciously.

"You're a very sweet boy." Adam's jaw dropped, and he stared at his father for a long moment, unable to put two coherent words together. "You've always been soft-hearted."

"Father!" Adam exclaimed. "Please don't say that in front of anybody. Especially not Teela!"

"Adam, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Maybe not if you're a girl," Adam said dispiritedly.

His father shoved his covers aside, stood up, crossed the space between their beds and sat beside him, putting his arm around his shoulders. "Adam, there's nothing wrong with –"

"Maybe not, but you wouldn't say that, for instance, He-Man, was soft-hearted."

Randor looked curiously at him. "Actually, I would. He goes out of his way to help others, even when it causes him pain. Duncan told me he even once prevented Skeletor from plummeting to his death." Adam hung his head. He remembered that incident, when Skeletor had tricked him. "And Adam?" He squeezed Adam's shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. Adam looked up at him. "You don't have to compare yourself against He-Man. I've told you before, no one can measure up to his example."

"You can," Adam muttered. "You're strong, courageous, nearly as good a fighter as he is." He shrugged. "People look up to you."

* * *

Randor was touched to hear Adam compare him so favorably to Eternia's champion. "Thank you, Adam. But I'm not nearly as selfless as He-Man is. Have you ever noticed that he's never here when times are good?" He tousled Adam's hair, smiling at the glare his son gave him. "Besides, people look up to you."

"Yeah," Adam grumbled. "Four-year-olds."

"Now, Adam, other people look up to you." Randor wondered if he'd ever been quite this insecure. Perhaps he was too hard on the boy.

"Name one."

"Stratos." Adam's eyes widened and he seemed to be astonished by this notion. "He thinks very highly of you, that you're a good leader."

"When have I ever lead anything?" Adam asked skeptically.

"Perhaps you have not lead in battle thus far, but you notice when people are disheartened, when they need encouragement. Do not imagine that has gone unnoticed, my son. One of the traits of yours that I'm proudest of is your ability to alleviate the distress of your friends." Adam didn't respond, but he didn't seem very impressed by this comment. "Duncan, too, speaks well of you. And when you were rumored to be dead, many of the masters came to me and told me how important you were to them."

"I was dead. You don't say rotten things about dead people. Not to their parents, anyway."

Randor sighed. It was clear that nothing was going to get Adam out of this funk. "Well, Adam. I can tell you one thing."

"What's that?"

"I love you very much. Don't ever doubt that." Adam stiffened as he spoke, and turned his head to look at him sidelong. Randor shifted slightly so that he could look his son in the eyes. "I mean that, Adam. You and your mother are the most important people in my life."

His son looked back down at his hands and mumbled something that sounded like, "I love you, too." Randor squeezed him again, and Adam leaned against him. They sat there in companionable silence for a long while. When Adam began to snore, Randor started stroking his hair. Adam would never have put up with it if he'd been awake.

He didn't know how long they'd been sitting like that when he heard the door open behind him. He craned his neck to see who had entered. Marlena walked around and sat on the edge of the other bed. She smiled at them fondly. "This is nice to see," she said softly. Randor smiled back at her and relaxed, his hand still stroking his son's head.

"You'd be very pleased. We had a long talk. He's in kind of an emotional muddle, and I don't think I helped much. But we talked."

"I'm glad to hear it. Sixteen's a rotten age."

"Truly. But we all lived through it. He will, too."

The door opened again, but Marlena's eyes were welcoming, so Randor didn't twist round to try and see who had entered.

"I don't mean to interrupt," Stratos said. "I can make my report later."

"No, come in, good Stratos," Randor said. Marlena stood up and gestured for Stratos to take a seat, then she joined Randor on his other side where he put his arm around her. Looking somewhat ill at ease, Stratos sank down onto the bed opposite the royal family.

"Is he well?" the Avion asked, gazing at Adam.

"Yes. He's just sleeping."

"Ah. I'm very glad to hear that. He looks so –" he seemed to be searching for a word " – vulnerable."

Randor nodded, giving his sleeping son an affectionate look. "It's hard to remember that he's almost an adult when he looks so very young."

"He's just a boy," Marlena said in a voice full of protest. Randor turned and looked into her eyes. He could see that she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

"He's sixteen, Marlena. I was leading troops at that age."

"He's not an adult. And he shouldn't have to grow up so fast." She turned imploring eyes on her husband. "You surely don't want that for your son."

He was at a loss for words that would comfort her. Times being what they were, there was nothing he could say. "Of course not, Marlena, but we are at war."

"And war steals childhood," she said, her eyes dark pools of worry. "But unlike the rest of us, Adam didn't grow up in a world where war was common. Your father fought Count Marzo when we were children, and then Keldor nearly conquered the world when we were young adults. Adam has never known that way of life. You can't expect him to grow up all at once on his sixteenth birthday just because Keldor broke down that wall."

"No one expects that, your highness," Stratos said gently. Randor looked up in surprise. He'd almost forgotten the Avion's presence.

"Don't they?" Marlena asked. "Perhaps you don't, but I'm not sure that's true of others. Randor seems to think he should react in battle like a seasoned veteran, despite the fact that the only battles he knew anything about a year ago were stories."

The Avion stood. "Perhaps I should return later."

Randor waved him to his seat again. "No. I think this conversation should take place later, where Adam can't wake up and hear any of it." Marlena breathed in sharply, and turned anxious eyes on her son, who slumbered on peacefully.

"Very well," she said, giving Randor an uncompromising look. "We will continue later."

"You said you had a report, Stratos? The imposter?"

"I regret to say that he has escaped, your highness." Marlena stiffened, and Randor felt as if the Avion had delivered a blow straight to his gut.

"How?" he asked.

"Man-E-Monster was close on his trail, but the fellow proved canny. He swam for some distance down a river. Manny searched the banks of the river for a great distance on either side, but he could not discern the imposter's scent. And the river went through an area that seemed rife with ferrets. We saw several, and we captured them all, but Manny, Sy-Klone and I don't genuinely believe that any of them is the imposter."

"What have you done with them?"

"Turned them over to Man-at-Arms. He borrowed Cringer and is testing them against his nose." Randor's mind boggled at this image.

"I'm sorry to say that's all I have to report. We were out all night, so, unless you have other questions. . ."

"No, of course not. Please, go and get some rest."

Stratos stood, but paused as Marlena spoke. "Thank you, Stratos. We know you did your best."

"I only wish it could have been more." Thus saying, the Avion left. Marlena leaned her head on Randor's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, dear, I shouldn't have spoken so to you in front of Stratos," Marlena said quietly.

Randor shook his head and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. "Don't worry, Marlena. Of all the masters, Stratos is surely the most discreet."

"I know, but –"

"Sshhh."


	19. The Heir's Guard

**Chapter 19 - The Heir's Guard**

They sat so for a few more minutes until the door opened again. Randor was wondering if they shouldn't move, all three of them, to his study, where no one felt they had the right of easy entrance, but Duncan cleared his throat apologetically.

"Yes, Man-at-Arms?" Randor said. "Come in, sit down." Duncan walked around the bed and took up the position so recently vacated by Stratos. Sergeant Raon followed him in and stood at the foot of the bed, eyes wide and innocent, clearly refusing to notice the tableau before him. Since he was so intent on ignoring them, Randor decided to ignore his presence. Suddenly, the bed shifted wildly behind him as Cringer leapt up and curled up next to his master.

"No luck, I take it?" Randor asked.

"None. Cringer wasn't the least bit interested in any of them, but unfortunately, that isn't necessarily conclusive. I did, however, neuroscan them, and none of them shows signs of unusual brain activity for a small vertebrate mammal."

"So, you don't think we've got the imposter?"

"No. I doubt very much that he would have the same neuroscan as a ferret, weaselly though he was."

Randor sighed. "So, have you let them go?"

"Not yet. I didn't think it was my place to make that decision."

"Marlena?"

She pursed her lips. "If you're certain, Duncan, that none of them is the imposter."

"As certain as I can be, your highness."

"Well, then I don't know what else we'd do with several cages full of ferrets."

"I'll have Sy-Klone release them, then." Randor nodded and Duncan stood up. Raon made a slight noise, causing Randor to raise a curious eyebrow in his general direction. Duncan gave the soldier a wry look. "Oh, yes. Raon has volunteered for duty as Adam's bodyguard, should such be needed."

"I think that's a wonderful idea!" Marlena exclaimed

Randor blinked at the young man, who was trying hard to look trustworthy and imposing. It was an interesting notion, and one he'd toyed with himself. "Perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere," hesuggested. "We wouldn't want to awaken Adam." Very gently, he lay his son back on the bed, trying to ignore the pain from the burn on his back. Cringer seemed to appreciate this change in his boy's position, and proceeded to stretch himself out along the entire length of Adam's body. Randor gave Cringer's ear a scratch and kissed Adam's forehead. Marlena pulled a quilt off the other bed and covered Adam up. "Duncan," Randor said, turning to his oldest friend. "I'd like you to stay here with Adam while Marlena and I talk with Raon."

Duncan's eyes widened. "But, Randor, I –"

"Any projects you're working on can surely be put on hold for a short time. I don't want Adam to wake up alone."

"I could send for Teela. I think I should be involved in such a conversation."

Randor chuckled. "Don't you think they've spent enough time alone together of late?" Randor shook his head. "By bringing Raon to me, you've made your opinion on this matter clear. You can safely leave it to me from here on." He smiled at Duncan to take any possible sting out of his words, and gave him a firm handclasp. "Stay with him, Duncan. I need to know someone I trust is here."

Duncan braced to attention and nodded. "As you wish, sire."

Randor led Raon and Marlena to the Records Office where he had the clerk pull Raon's file and those of six others. He pretended not to notice Raon's dismayed gulp. The clerk, at some gesture from Marlena, handed the pile of files to Raon. Randor gave his wife an irritated look, to which she returned a bland smile.

Randor was beginning to feel cosseted as Marlena opened the door to his office for him and Sergeant Raon carefully placed the files on his desk before his chair. Then the sergeant walked around to stand at attention on the other side of the desk. Randor walked over to stand in front of his chair. He remembered a time when Raon was a boy and Adam and Teela had been fascinated by the older child. More than once he'd kept the pair occupied so that their parents could get some quiet time.

"So, Sergeant," Randor said, opening Raon's file. "Tell me why you have volunteered for this position." Marlena sat down nearby, watching the proceedings. Randor had no doubt, however, that she'd make her opinion known if she saw the need.

Raon cleared his throat. "Your highness, I believe that the prince is in need of more specific and separate protection. He is clearly under threat from several sources –"

"Yes, I quite see that, Raon," Randor said. "But in fact you missed the point of my question. Why do you think you're qualified?"

"Oh, I see, your highness." Raon swallowed his embarrassment and forged ahead. "Well, I am expert in small arms, experienced with the larger armaments, and I excel at several forms of unarmed combat. I have trained with a blade since I was a boy. I am close enough to the prince's age to relate to him as a peer, which seems to me important, as he is at an age when young men are sensitive about being told what to do. Yet I am sufficiently older than he not to be prey to those same insecurities." Randor raised an eyebrow, remembering a particular moment of insecurity from about two months ago.

"Sergeant, this wouldn't have anything to do with the guilt you expressed when you attempted to resign just before Adam was carried off to Snake Mountain?"

The young man's eyes widened, and his back straightened. "No, sire. I don't believe so. I genuinely want to be of assistance."

"I just don't want you to be making this choice as an effort to expiate any residual feelings from that episode."

Raon shook his head. "Certainly not, your highness. I believe I am one of several people who are well qualified for the job. But due to shared past experiences, well, I think he'll have a harder time slipping away from me than from an older man. Or a younger man who doesn't know him so well."

Randor nodded, and took his seat. "Well said, Raon. Please, sit down." Seeming slightly startled by the change of tone, the sergeant complied. "I had given this some thought myself just before the most recent crisis." Grimacing, the king went on. "Which has only made the need more apparent. Sergeant, do you have a proposal for how you would go about guarding my son?"

The young soldier nodded, blinking slightly. "Yes, your highness. I thought that, with five others, a rotating schedule could be worked out."

"So you have thought this through," Randor said musingly. "I'm glad to see that, though it's only what I would expect from Rogar's son." Raon squared his shoulders, clearly pleased at this favorable comparison with his father. "Have you anyone in mind?"

"Actually, yes. I had thought Quick-Wing, Raven, Felinar, Pirschan and Nalineph. I've worked with all of them, and I think they could all work together well."

Randor nodded thoughtfully. An Andrenid, an Avian and a Qadian? He hadn't thought of that but it would please their allies. He'd have to look into their records, and perhaps consult Buzz-Off and Stratos. "Pirschan? Are you sure? What about Trothum?"

Raon's eyebrows raised, and he seemed to be searching for words. "He is an excellent soldier, sire, but I don't think he and Adam would - I think their personalities would mix poorly."

"Really?"

"They used to have frequent disagreements when they were boys," Marlena added.

"Oh, yes, thank you. That's a good point. Well, Sergeant Raon, I will give it some thought and get back to you. Where are you on the duty roster today?"

"I've been detached from my unit to guard the prince, actually. When Man-at-Arms came to give me my instructions, I made my suggestion."

"I see. Well then, take your post and ask Duncan to come here."

"Yes, sire." Raon saluted and left the room.

"What do you think, Randor?" Marlena asked, getting up and walking around to the chair opposite the desk.

"I think I need to get a better idea of the people he suggested so I can make a more informed decision. Have you any alternate suggestions, my dear?" She shook her head, so he wrote a note to send off to the Records Office. By the time Duncan arrived, he and Marlena were looking over the files of Raon's suggestions as well as his own.

"Yes, your highness?"

"We have a King's Guard, Duncan," Randor said. "I do believe we need to organize an Heir's Guard. You must admit that Adam is in dire need of further protection." Duncan looked at the piles of files on his desk with raised eyebrows.

"I'm not sure what Adam will think of that, Randor."

"I have a feeling I know what he'll think of it," Randor said. "I know how I reacted when you insisted on providing me with a guard of my own. But I can't let it stop me from doing what I know is right, any more than you let my dismay stop you." He gave Duncan a curious look. "You aren't seriously suggesting that I disregard Adam's safety, are you?"

"Of course not. But you were much older when this necessity came upon you. Adam is still very young, and there are freedoms he won't want to give up."

"I know," Randor said, his brows wrinkling.

"He shouldn't have to give up any freedoms, Duncan, I agree," Marlena said unexpectedly. "But the times, much as I hate to say it, don't allow for that. Adam will just have to accept that there are limitations on him."

* * *

When Adam woke up again, he was annoyed with himself. How could he have fallen asleep again, this time in the middle of a conversation with this father? He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked around. His father was gone, Cringer was back, sleeping beside him, and Raon stood by the windows, gazing out.

"What are you doing here?" Adam asked, yawning and sitting up.

Raon turned, and gave him an odd grin. "Guarding you." He lifted his hands in a strange gesture and spoke a word that sounded oddly familiar. Bolts of verdant fire shot from his fingers to the windows and the door, outlining them briefly in green light. Adam stared for an instant, then threw himself over Cringer and off the side of the bed, scrabbling beneath it for his sword. Cringer woke up as Adam dove over him, and rose, fur bristling, glaring at the imposter. He gathered himself for a leap, but the imposter laughed in Raon's voice and sent a blast of energy that threw the cat spinning into a wall. Adam found his sword, and shot to his feet, naked steel in his hand.

The imposter clutched at his chest mockingly and exclaimed, "I'm so terrified! The young prince is threatening me." He shifted form suddenly, a bizarre liquid melting that made Adam's insides lurch, and he found himself again staring at himself. "How long do you suppose it would take them to figure out which was who if I beat you bloody and then swapped your clothes for mine?"

Adam didn't say anything. He was too busy trying to figure a way out of this. He didn't dare become He-Man with the imposter in the room, though there was a certain temptation to it, trading one transformation for another. Someone rattled the doorknob fruitlessly, but when the door didn't open at once, they began pounding. "Adam? Adam! Are you okay?" It was Raon, Adam thought. The real Raon. The pounding stopped, and Adam could hear alarmed voices discussing options outside.

He got a better grip on his sword and started toward the imposter, who stood his ground, watching him in amused silence. When he was three feet away, the imposter raised a hand and spoke, blasting him back against the wall. The doorknob slammed into his elbow. The Power Sword spun out of his grasp, and with a word, the imposter summoned it to his hand. "I don't think you'll be needing this, Adam. Not any longer." He tossed it onto one of the beds and started toward him.

Adam dragged himself to his feet, trying to dodge around the villain to reach his sword, but his legs gave way beneath him as he started to run. Something slammed into the wall to his left, making the building shake, but the wall held firm. The imposter laughed and kept up his slow approach to Adam. "Don't you think they'll be shocked when they finally get in here to find that you are a smoldering pile of ashes?" Adam grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a small table that stood beside the door and threw it at the imposter. He caught it with hands that were already ablaze with heat and it charred in his grip. He tossed it aside and it shattered against the floor. Another crash sounded against the wall opposite the beds, and Adam hoped they could get through. "Don't look for rescue, boy! It's not coming." The imposter was almost upon him.

Pushing off against the wall behind him, Adam launched himself his attacker, aiming at his shins with his shoulder. As the man fell forward, Adam scrambled out into the middle of the room to avoid the fiery hands.

The imposter slammed into the wall and caught himself, dampening the heat of his hands to keep from setting the walls on fire. When he turned, his eyes were full of fury. "Are you trying to make this harder on yourself?"

"What?" Adam exclaimed incredulously as he pulled himself back toward the bed where his sword was lying. "I should just sit and wait for you to kill me?"

"I really rather like that idea." He sent another blast of energy that caught Adam at the ribs and lifted him. He crashed back into the windows. The glass shattered, cracks spidering out from the impact, but the weasel's spell held it in place. Adam landed hard, his head smacking against the window frame as he fell.

He struggled to a sitting position as the weasel came toward him again. His head was splitting, and with the waves of dizziness that went through him, there was no way he was getting up to meet the attack. He just stared in horror as the imposter's hands heated up again.

There was a great rending noise from the other side of the room, and Ram-Man came barreling in, head down, driving right through the wall opposite the beds. Raon and several other guards came running in behind him. The other guards stopped, staring at the imitation prince, looming over Adam who was still leaning up against the wall. They were clearly uncertain what to do. Raon, however, launched himself straight at the imposter and knocked him down.

"Be careful of his hands!" Adam yelled, but the spell seemed to dissipate when the imposter's head hit the floor. Raon grabbed the weasel around the neck with one hand and forced the corner of a blanket into his mouth to keep him from speaking. Jonis ran up with a syringe in hand and plunged it deep into the imposter's arm, sending some drug or another into his system. As the weasel's struggles weakened, Adam found he could breathe again, and he saw the Dorgan was kneeling next to him. His father and Man-at-Arms ran in through the hole in the wall and stopped short at the sight that greeted them.

"Adam!" his father cried and fell to his knees beside his son. Adam looked up at him weakly.

"I'm okay, Dad. Really." Dorgan was examining his head with gentle hands, and Adam winced as he reached the lump that was rapidly rising on his scalp. "I just hit my head a little." Duncan towered over his father. "Man-at-Arms, could you go check on Cringer? Over by the bed." He nodded and followed Adam's pointing finger.

"I've got him sedated," Adam heard Medic Jonis report. "Who is this?"

Raon's voice responded, "An imposter, a shapeshifter." Jonis whistled in surprise.

Dorgan was looking in Adam's eyes and checking his reflexes. "Get him moved up onto the bed," Dorgan ordered. "And get that monster out of here. Jonis, keep him unconscious and tied down until we can work out what to do with him!"

Manny and Mekanek, who'd arrived at some point, though Adam couldn't remember when, supervised the prisoner's removal. His father and Raon lifted Adam onto a bed. Duncan grabbed the sword out of the way as they lowered him to the mattress. A cracking noise from the windows caused them all to jump, and Randor threw himself, cloak spread, across Adam as the shards of glass from the broken windows came crashing down. Adam heard Dorgan cursing loudly and calling for a stretcher. Randor stood up slowly, carefully, trying to keep any of the glass that coated him from landing on Adam.

"All right," Dorgan snapped. "You two, get the king out of those clothes and treat the cuts on his legs. You two, take the prince into exam room three and see to it that his mother can find him. You three, get the cat up and check him out. Make sure he's all right and then bring him into the prince's room. The rest of you, find other work to be doing! Move!"

Raon still stood beside Adam's bed, with cuts on his face from the falling glass. "I will stay with Prince Adam."

"Very good, Sergeant," Randor said, while he allowed his cloak to be removed by the medics Dorgan had assigned to the task. "I'll be in as soon as I'm changed."

Adam wished the world would stop swinging back and forth. "Don't fall asleep, Adam," Dorgan said. "You're concussed. You need to stay awake."

"I'll try," Adam said. "But I've been falling asleep all the time lately."

"Sergeant, if you're going to insist on staying, talk to him. Keep him from falling asleep."

Raon looked down at Adam with his eyes wide. "Um, well, Adam." An idea seemed to come to him, and he said, "So, Adam, what do you think of Lady Marel?"

"Huh?" Adam said, wrinkling his eyebrows.

"Well, I heard she likes you. So what do you think of her?"

* * *

Randor stood still as the medics carefully shook the glass out of his clothes and tried to determine how best to undress him. They decided that, rather than dragging the glass covered fabric across his skin, they were going to cut the clothes off him. Duncan stood watching, arms folded.

Resigned to this indignity, Randor turned to his man at arms and raised an eyebrow. "So, Duncan, I left you with him. Just how did this happen?"

"I don't know. Raon came and told me that you'd sent him back and that I was released. I took care of a couple of other small matters, then went to see you."

"Wait, you took care of other matters? Didn't Raon tell you to come to me immediately? I told him to."

Duncan shook his head. "No, Randor. He just said that he was sent to take over guarding Adam. Since that was his duty, I wasn't surprised, but he didn't say anything about you." His eyes closed and he sighed. "At least, I thought it was Raon."

"I see." Randor pursed his lips. "How are we going to keep someone with that sort of ability prisoner, Duncan?"

"I don't know."

Once his clothes were cut away, Randor pushed out of the grip of the medics and went into the bathing chamber adjoining the room. He stepped into the bath and sluiced himself down thoroughly with water, then seized a towel and began drying himself off. Pulling on the robe that hung on the door, he brushed the medics aside again and walked across to the room where Adam lay, followed closely by Duncan. When one of the medics tried to protest, he said, "Bring your supplies in with you, but I am going to see my son."

When he arrived, he found Raon standing beside the bed, regaling Adam with tales about the antics of the young nobles at court. Adam seemed weak, and his eyes were half-closed, but he kept asking questions. Marlena sat on the other side of the bed holding Adam's hand. Cringer lay on the bed next to his master, leaning against his side. Dorgan looked up and saw the king. Walking over, he gestured at the hovering medics and said, "See, Randor, you're a terrible patient. Sit down and let them work on you. Adam is going to be fine."

"His concussion?"

"Not serious, thank the elders." Dorgan drew Randor to a chair and sat him down. "He just needs rest. I'm keeping him awake for the moment, to make sure he's all right. But you don't need to worry." Dorgan looked at his face, and snorted. "There's little chance of stopping you from worrying, though, isn't there?"

"This would be easier if he were on his stomach," one of the medics said anxiously to Dorgan. Sighing Randor stood up and let them lead him out to another exam room. Dorgan stayed with Adam, however, for which Randor was grateful. He didn't feel like being lectured by the old healer just now.

If he'd let Duncan send for Teela, the imposter would have had less success sending her away. She might even have seen through his disguise. Of course, she might be dead now as well. Randor gritted his teeth. If only they hadn't saved the worthless creature at the edge of the abyss! But, no, they were better people than that. They didn't allow people to die if they could save them, no matter what scum they were. That monster was here even now, in another room of this infirmary, still looking like Adam. Still appearing to be his son. Randor started to get up.

"Your highness, please, let us finish."

"Yes, Randor," Duncan said. "I know how frustrated you are, but -"

Randor pushed himself up so that he could look Man-at-Arms in the face. "Duncan, get back to your lab and work out a way to keep that vile abomination from getting away from us again! I want to know you have an impenetrable cage ready for him before we allow him to awaken."

Duncan stared at him for a moment, then nodded sharply and left. Randor subsided onto the exam table and simmered, wishing he could just abandon his morals, his principles and just go in there and snap that monster's neck.

When the medics were convinced that they had him bandaged up thoroughly, Randor got up and pulled on some clothes that had been fetched from his room. Then he went into the imposter's room and looked down at the image of his son that lay there, strapped to the exam table, dressed in a guard's uniform. He looked surprisingly sweet and innocent with his personality absent. This only increased Randor's desire to throttle the repulsive little ferret.

A medic approached him, and said, "Sire, I don't understand. Prince Adam is in exam three, but he's in here, too?"

Randor turned to the medic, and his expression must have been frightful for she shrank back. "He is a sadistic torturer and abductor of children." Her eyes widened, and he saw that his words had caused several others in the vicinity to stop what they were doing and stare. "He is also a shapeshifter. An imposter who has been masquerading as my son for some time."

"In fact, Jala, if he begins to stir, you are to jab this into him," Dorgan said, walking up behind Randor and placing a syringe on a nearby table. "He's a sorcerer, and we don't dare take the chance on him casting a spell until we come up with a better way to control him." Medic Jala nodded, and gazed with alarm at the unconscious man.

Randor turned and left the room. "Send for Man-E-Faces and Buzz-Off," he ordered. Dorgan came up next to him. "Why aren't you with Adam?"

"He's fine, Randor. I've let him go to sleep now. Someone will stay with him to observe him, but he will feel much better in the morning."

"In the morning? It's barely mid-afternoon."

"We'll give him some glop when he's been asleep for awhile."

"Dorgan, is he going to be all right? I mean, really all right?"

"Yes, Randor. If he can manage not to get attacked for awhile. Say another three months of recuperation and he should be fine."

"Three months!" Randor went to look in Adam's door at his peacefully sleeping son. "It seems such a long time."

"I know, Randor. But rest assured, he will again be able to fulfill his normal duties. In the meantime, he needs rest and –"

"I'm not concerned about his duties, Dorgan! I'm concerned about my son!" Dorgan raised his brows.

"Well, I'm pleased to hear it."

Randor glared at the cantankerous old healer and turned as the door to the infirmary opened, admitting Buzz-Off and Man-E-Faces. "Thank you for coming so promptly. I would like the two of you, along with other members of the guard with keen senses of smell, to organize a guard over the imposter."

"So he has been captured?" Manny asked eagerly.

"Yes. Sergeant Raon of the guard and Ram-Man captured him."

"That's marvelous!" Buzz-Off exclaimed. "Where is the evil vulture now?"

Randor led them to the room and let them see the imposter. "By the Elders," Manny murmured. "He really does look like Adam."

"Yes, unfortunately. We're keeping him sedated while Man-at-Arms comes up with a way to keep him locked up and out of trouble."

"I see," Manny said. "I think between us, Buzz-Off and I can round up enough Andrenids and Qadians to keep a solid guard on him." Buzz-Off nodded.

"Then I will leave it in your capable hands." Randor walked back out into the main room of the infirmary and was contemplating what else he needed to accomplish before he collapsed. The strain of his own injuries was beginning to tell on him. He noticed without paying much attention as Teela entered the infirmary and walked toward the room that he had shared with Adam the previous night. Dorgan had been shadowing him for the last few minutes, and finally Randor turned on him. "What do you want, Dorgan?"

"You are still recuperating yourself, your highness. You need to rest."

Randor shook his head and waved the healer away. "I will, but there is one thing more I want to do before –"

Teela came running back into the room and cried, "Where's Adam? What happened?" Randor looked into her frightened face and realized abruptly that she must not know about the most recent attack.

"It's all right Teela," he said, walking over to her and putting his hands on her shoulders. "He's fine. He was attacked, but he's fine."

"Was it the imposter?" she demanded.

"Yes, but –"

Her eyes were alarmed as she gazed into his. "He didn't burn him again, did he? Adam's all right?"

"Yes, Teela, he's –" A terrible cry sounded from Adam's room. Randor released Teela and ran to his son's side.

Adam was sitting up in bed staring at nothing and breathing hard. Marlena was trying to get him to lie back down, but she was having no luck. Adam was tense as a bowstring and seemed caught in the throes of some remnant of terror from whatever dream had awakened him. Randor moved to his other side, and, sitting on the edge of the bed, put his hands on Adam's shoulders. At his touch, something seemed to snap and Adam looked into his face. Then, with a hoarse cry, he crumpled against his father's chest. Randor took him in a tight embrace as Adam began to sob tearlessly. A worried Cringer curled up around Adam's back, licking his arm.

Marlena joined them on the bed, and put her arms around Adam as well. Teela eyes were horrified as she watched them. Dorgan rushed up behind her and stopped when he saw the tableau. Sobs wracked Adam's body, and they weren't lessening. He clutched at his father and could not be comforted. Randor's world shrank to his arms holding his son as he murmured words of solace to the boy.

He had no idea how much time had passed when Adam's sobs began to diminish and he finally fell back to sleep. Randor was, himself, exhausted. Marlena drew back and urged Cringer out of the way as Randor lay Adam back down on the bed and stretched out beside him. He felt someone removing his boots as he fell asleep.


	20. All Hail

**Chapter 20 – All Hail**

When Randor awakened, Adam was cuddled close with his head pillowed on his chest, and Cringer was laying across their feet. Someone had covered them up. Randor shifted slightly, and found that Duncan was looking at him across Adam's still form. "What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.

"I've created the cage you requested. It was really just a different application of that shield I created when Adam was taken to Snake Mountain two months ago."

"Oh. Is the imposter in it already?"

"No. I locked Orko in it. He's going to spend the night trying to get out to test its strength."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Randor asked with some alarm.

"Well, if Orko can't get out, with his irregular and unpredictable magic, I doubt the imposter can."

"That is a point."

"So if Orko's still stuck tomorrow morning, we put the imposter inside.."

"Sounds good," a voice said from Randor's chest. Adam blinked and shifted. "Father?"

"Yes, son?"

"I want something to drink." Duncan nodded and stood up. When he had left the room, Adam looked sleepily up at his father. "Did the imposter really show up again, or did I dream that?"

"It was no dream," Randor said. "But we did catch him, and Man-at-Arms has fashioned a prison for him."

"Oh. Father? Why are we - um - what happened?"

Randor smiled sympathetically. "You had a nightmare, and -"

Adam's eyes widened in memory. "I dreamed that the imposter had trapped me behind a forcefield to use as bait." Adam shook his head, his eyes closed. "He lured you in and set you on fire. I couldn't get to you, I couldn't do anything. And he laughed while you burned."

Randor stroked Adam's hair reassuringly, and for once, he didn't object. "It's all right, Adam. He can't hurt anyone now. Dorgan has him sedated and I have guards on him all the time."

"Does he still look like me?" Adam asked worriedly.

Sighing, Randor said, "I'm afraid so."

"There's got to be something we can do about that. Like not feed him anything but glop unless he transforms." Adam gave a shudder. "By the way, that's the creepiest thing I've ever seen, Evil-Lyn included."

"What do you mean?" Randor asked.

"When I woke up he looked like Raon, but I saw him shapeshift into - into me. It was like he melted. Ugh!" It was a disturbing image. Adam twisted to look him in the face. "Wait, the glass from the window. Are you all right?"

"It was nothing, Adam, just some cuts on my legs." Randor was alarmed as Adam dropped his head and began to shake. Was he crying again? "Adam, it's all right, I'm fine." Adam looked up again and Randor saw that he was laughing helplessly. "What is it?"

"I have a concussion and you have scratched up legs." Randor shook his head, baffled by what Adam could possibly find funny in that. "He really did manage to make us match, didn't he?" Randor gritted his teeth as a surge of anger ran through him. What did he have to do to keep villains like the weasel and Skeletor away from his son? While Adam shook in semi-hysterical laughter, Randor struggled to keep him from sensing his anger. Finally, as the laughter subsided, Adam relaxed in his father's embrace. "He was trying to kill me, you know. He said all you'd find was a pile of smoldering ashes."

Randor's arms tightened convulsively around his son. That grotesque verminous cretin had come so close this time. "Ow, Dad!" Randor realized that he was squeezing a little too tightly and eased his grip a little.

"I'm sorry, Adam. I just -"

"I know." Adam shuddered and put his arms around his father. "I'm nowhere near your burn, am I?" he asked. Randor shook his head. "I'm okay, Father. He didn't actually touch me this time. Though he can do an awful lot without actually touching you."

"This I know," Randor said wryly.

"That heinous, despicable, no good, rotten - can't we tie him up, put him in a box, tie it with a purple ribbon and ship him back to Evil-Lyn?"

"Tempting, but no."

"I bet she could do really interesting things with him!" Adam said, persuasively. Randor got a vivid image of Evil-Lyn with her hands on a copy of his son, and shuddered. "Dad, are you okay? Did I hit your burn?"

"No, I just got an unpleasant image."

"Oh." Adam was silent for a moment. "I just don't like the thought that he'll be here, in a cell, just waiting to escape and - and -"

"He won't get out, Adam. Man-at-Arms is seeing to that."

Adam sighed. "I know. It just gives me the creeps." His arms relaxed and he rolled onto his back. "Is Man-at-Arms coming back with that drink?" he asked.

At that moment, the door opened and Duncan came in. Randor raised an eyebrow at his friend. He suspected that Duncan had been waiting outside the room until the conversation wasn't quite so emotional. He was carrying a tray that contained two glasses of water, and also two steaming mugs. "Dorgan grabbed me the minute I left the room and made me bring in a nourishing broth for the both of you. He seems to feel that sleeping through meals is bad for your health. Odd fellow, Dorgan." Randor glared at Duncan who returned him a bland look.

"Thanks, Man-at-Arms," Adam said, sitting up. "That smells great!"

"Are you hungry, Adam?" Randor asked.

"Actually, yeah." He took one of the mugs off the tray and started drinking. "I don't suppose there's any bread to go with this?" Duncan smiled, set down the tray and left again. "Where's he going?"

"I think he's going to get you something more to eat."

"Oh, great." Adam seemed more himself suddenly, and Randor wondered if he was putting on a show for Duncan.

"Adam, are you all right?"

The boy shrugged. "Fine, I guess." He sighed. "I mean, this has set me back at least a couple weeks, probably a month in my recuperation, I spent awhile at Snake Mountain, this time unconscious the whole time, which means I have absolutely no idea what they did or didn't do to me." He glanced up. "What about that viewer? Couldn't you see what happened?"

"Unfortunately, you were visible right up to Snake Mountain, and immediately after you left again, but not while you were inside."

"Oh." Adam sighed. "We're going to be holding someone who can look like anyone he wants to in a cell in the palace complex, and we know he wants to kill me and he probably wants to kill you. Oh, and I still don't know what he was after."

"We're not sure yet exactly either. There's a magical artifact under Arleron village, but we still don't know what it does."

"Great. And now Skeletor wants it." Adam sighed. "But I'm going to be fine, Father, really. I don't want to let that twerp win. Or Skeletor, or Evil-Lyn."

"I'm glad to hear that, Adam."

Duncan arrived a moment later with a fully laden tray for Adam, and Randor sat back to enjoy watching his son eat. Man-At-Arms left immediately again and Randor wondered where he was going. A moment later, he returned with another tray which he handed to Randor. This bed was getting a little crowded, but when he made to get up, Adam gave him a wistful look. Randor shrugged, not at all unwilling to stay. He settled a little further away on the bed, and shared his sausage with Cringer.

* * *

Adam woke up to the comforting presence of his father on one side and his cat on his feet. And the pleasant awareness that his dreams hadn't involved either death or dismemberment. He stretched, which didn't wake Cringer, but started his purr going. It did wake his father, however. "Good morning, Adam," he said. "How did you sleep?"

Adam had a feeling that he was going to be answering that question rather a lot over the next few weeks. "Fine. No dreams, bad or good." His father looked much better than he had the previous day. "How are you feeling?"

"Almost fit," his father said as he got out of bed and stretched. Adam wished he dared do that, but from the way his legs felt, he didn't trust his ability to stand.

"The key word there is 'almost,'" Dorgan said, walking into the room. "You're not fit yet, your highness. My prescription for both of you is a week's bed rest."

Adam looked up miserably. Bed rest. He was sick and tired of beds. "Bed rest?" his father exclaimed. "But I must get back to work."

"I'm sure that, between them, Marlena and Duncan can make the everyday decisions, Randor." Dorgan raised an eyebrow at him. "You promised that if I kept you going while Adam was gone, that you would rest when I told you to after he was back."

"What do you mean, keep him going?" Adam asked, looking up at his father suspiciously. "What did you have to do to keep him going?"

"Any number of unwise, unhealthy things, that are going to catch up with him if he tries to jump back into his usual schedule too quickly."

His father was giving Dorgan some kind of warning look. He kept throwing meaningful glances at Adam and then raising his eyebrows at the healer, as if trying to tell him something. Adam glared at the both of them. "What's been going on?" The mildly defensive expression on his father's face, and the irritated look on Dorgan's alarmed Adam. "Father?" he asked.

The king shook his head and said, "It's not important, Adam.

The sudden distance that sprang up between his father and him startled Adam into speaking without thinking. "Don't you trust me?"

* * *

Randor gazed into the worried eyes of his son, not sure how to respond. When he didn't reply immediately, Adam's face closed down. "Never mind," he muttered, shrugging and looking away.

"No, Adam," Randor said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed Adam's hand. His son tried to pull away, but Randor held on. "Adam, that's not it. It's just - I knew that I had to stay on top of things until you came back. With the imposter free to roam the palace at will, and enter that prison and torture you, the masters spread out all over, and Duncan tied to that wretched machine, I couldn't afford to take the time to rest and recover." Adam looked back up at him, and the worried hurt in his eyes tore at Randor's heart.

"Well, yeah, so?" he asked, looking baffled.

"Dorgan gave me some stimulants, and some pain killers, to keep me on my feet so that I could function."

Comprehension dawned on Adam's face, followed quickly by annoyance. "Did you think I wouldn't understand that?" Adam shook his head. "Why didn't you want to tell me?"

"I guess I'm not very proud of it. And it's not a solution I would choose to use in a less critical situation."

"So what?" Adam demanded, anger glinting in his blue eyes. "You think I might decide to try it out on a whim?"

Randor blinked, startled by this notion. "No, Adam. That would never have occurred to me. I just - I haven't even mentioned it to your mother."

"And a king can't admit to weakness," Dorgan said wryly. "Or at least this king can't. He wants to be seen as the iron man, and that doesn't work when you're broken." Randor started to glare at the healer tiredly, because he was right, but his attention was arrested by his son's reaction.

Adam sat up straight suddenly and glared at Dorgan. "He is not broken!" the boy declared hostilely. "Don't you say things like that!"

Dorgan took a step back from the strength of Adam's emotion. "I didn't mean it that way, Adam," he said, startled. "I just meant that he was hurt."

"Well, what if someone heard you? Someone who didn't know you? Who doesn't know your habit of saying obnoxious things to be funny!"

The healer took a deep breath and said, "You're right, Adam. I shouldn't have said that."

Adam's eyes flashed. "And don't humor me!" Randor was taken aback by the intensity of Adam's anger. "You're always belittling people! You sucker punch them in the ego when they're already hurt! Don't talk about my father that way!"

"Adam," Randor said, trying to deflect his attention. It worked a little too well. Adam thrust back the covers and stood up, glaring at his father furiously.

"And you! If you're still recovering from having to run yourself ragged, get back in bed!" he yelled, pointing vigorously at the bed. The suddenness of his movement proved to be too much for his rather wobbly balance and he started to topple over backwards, arms reaching out desperately for something to support him.

Randor rushed to catch him, and Adam clutched at his father, When he had his son steady on his feet, an arm around his shoulders, Randor said, "I will if you will." Adam looked up at him pathetically and nodded. Then he looked down at the bed.

"We either need a room with two beds, or a bigger bed."

Dorgan spoke up. "I'll go make some arrangements." He ducked rapidly out of the room.

"In the meantime," Randor said, "Why don't you lie back down, and I'll sit quietly in this chair." Adam reluctantly let himself be persuaded to get back in the bed, and Randor sank down onto the chair with a weary sigh. "We make quite a pair, just now, don't we, son?"

"Yeah," Adam said disgustedly. "All hail the royal family of Eternia."

Randor chuckled. "Hip hip hooray."


	21. And Life Goes On, Again

Chapter 21 – And Life Goes On 

Dorgan solved the problem by shifting them into a room with four beds in it. Marlena showed up in the middle of the move with Randor and Adam's night things. "Oh, good," she said. "There's space for me." Marlena chivvied Adam into washing and changing and left her husband to Dorgan's tender mercies.

The healer was abnormally quiet and thoughtful as he helped Randor bathe. Finally he said, "I wonder how long that's been building up." Randor raised an eyebrow at him. "I told you before that he'd been unusually patient with his difficulties. I just wonder how long he's needed to blow up like that at someone."

Randor shook his head. "I think I know where most of that came from, Dorgan, and I doubt it's been all that long."

"What do you mean?"

Rolling his eyes, Randor soaped up his chest. "You remember how irritated you got over my 'toadying' to the imposter?" Dorgan nodded. "Well, I had to do a lot more of it to keep him from cutting Adam's fingers off. Unfortunately, Adam got to hear all of it." Randor grimaced. "He got to hear me saying that I'd been beaten. I sounded quite pathetic and desperate." Sighing, he looked down at the water and muttered, "And most of it wasn't acting."

"Oh." Dorgan was silent after that, as if he didn't know what to say. Randor finished his bath without speaking. He had to talk to Adam.

While he was dressing, though he turned to the healer. "Please don't take what Adam said to you too seriously, Dorgan. I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"Oh, yes he did. And he wasn't entirely wrong. But there is a purpose to what I do – at least most of the time." He shrugged. "But don't worry, I'm not annoyed with him. Just surprised to see him lash out like that."

* * *

Adam glared at his mother. It was hard, she was so worried, but he was adamant. "No, Mother, you can't help me bathe. I can manage on my own."

"Adam, you can barely stand up." She put the pajamas she'd brought for him, incidentally a pair of the monogrammed ones she'd made over the months he'd spent in bed. He couldn't figure out how to tell her just how much he hated those. "You can't take a bath on your own."

Sighing, for the truth of that was all too apparent. "All right, fine. Find someone else. I can't bathe in front of you."

"I'm your mother, I used to bathe you all the time."

"That was different." Adam hung his head. "Please, Mother. Get Duncan, or Jonis, or somebody. I just –"

Finally, Marlena relented. "Oh, very well. I'll get someone for you." She sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's not easy for me to let you grow up sometimes." As she turned and left, Adam wondered what she'd think if she knew his secret, if she knew that her little boy transformed into He-Man to fight evil. Somehow, he didn't think she'd be pleased, but he wasn't sure who she'd be the most annoyed with.

Knowing that he'd get yelled at if he tried to climb into the tub on his own, Adam leaned back against the wall. This was the first time he'd been alone since he'd gotten home. He couldn't make up his mind if he liked it or not. It was nice not to have anyone fussing over him, but he didn't know where the imposter was. He'd heard his father and Man-At-Arms discussing some kind of forcefield cage last night, but no one had said anything about whether the thing had actually worked.

The burn on his chest ached, his head still ached and his hand where the imposter had started to burn him was sensitive to the touch. The healing burn on his arm itched like crazy, and the cut on his neck was starting to itch, too. He chuckled morosely. Wasn't healing fun? One of these days, he would be able to stand on his own two feet again and stare evil in the eye. Skeletor had better watch out. He-Man was going to be in an irritable mood the next time he saw him.

The door opened and Duncan walked in, stripped down to his undershirt and his pants. "So, your mother said you asked for me."

Adam looked up at him, feeling thoroughly pathetic. "I just don't think I could handle having my mother bathe me."

Duncan grinned. "Oh, I understand completely. How are you feeling?"

"Really?"

"Yes, Adam, really."

"Like I want to grab my sword and stick it into some people. Some very specific people. Starting with the imposter, then Skeletor, then Evil-Lyn, then Tri-Klops. After that I don't care what order they come in."

Duncan laughed out loud. "That sounds like a plan." He reached out a hand to help Adam up. Suddenly, though, Adam wasn't sure. "Duncan? Would you mind telling me the secret we share? Just to be on the safe side?"

"What?" Man-at-Arms blinked in surprise, then raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes, I see. You are He-Man." Adam sighed with relief and let Duncan help him up. "And I can assure you, the imposter is safely locked away in a cell in the prison, still unconscious. I convinced your father and Dorgan to leave him that way until we can consult the Sorceress."

"Oh, good." Adam was more relieved than he could say. The thought of ever being in a room with that – that thing again was enough to make him want to run screaming. He glanced up at Duncan as he pulled his pajamas off. "Would you say I was a coward if I told you that the imposter terrifies me?" he asked diffidently, honestly not sure what the answer would be. The minute the question left his lips, he wished he hadn't asked it.

"Of course not," Duncan said positively. "Frankly, he terrifies me." His gaze landed on the burn on Adam's chest, and, embarrassed, Adam turned away.

"He does?"

"Oh, yes. And he never touched me. And he never looked like me." Duncan shuddered. "I can't imagine what this has to have been like for you."

Adam shrugged. "It sucked."

Grimacing sympathetically, Man-At-Arms took his arm and helped him walk into the sunken tub where he sat down on one of the ledges. Mostly Duncan just stayed nearby, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the wall next to the tub while Adam bathed himself, for which Adam was intensely grateful. He didn't really need any extra help, unless he fell asleep or fell over or something. Otherwise he was fine. "So, how bad are my dad's burns?" he asked suddenly, looking back over his shoulder. "Have you seen them?"

Duncan started. "Has he told you about them?"

"Yes. So how bad are they?"

"Well, the one on his arm is roughly the same as the one on yours. The one on his back – well, that one is pretty bad."

"How did the imposter manage it? I mean, I can't imagine Father standing still for it."

"Well, he wasn't standing." Adam stilled, wondering if he should have asked this question. He was abruptly unsure that he wanted to know, but it was too late to take the question back. "The weasel had very nearly knocked him out, and he was lying on the floor. I didn't see it happen, you know. I came in just after." The image of his father on the floor at the weasel's mercy made Adam furious, but there was nothing he could do now. He turned back to his bath and started vigorously scrubbing his arms, careful of the left.

"So, if I hadn't gotten him angry enough to burn me, he might not have burned my father. He said something about making us match, I guess."

"I hadn't heard that," Duncan said. "But it hardly matters. Nothing that happened was your fault. That fellow was a time bomb, waiting to go off. He just kept escalating. There wasn't anything you could do to stop him."

"I suspect I could have killed him." Adam was surprised to hear those words coming out of his mouth. "I was alone with him more than once, and –"

"Adam, you attacked him once. You didn't have the strength –"

Adam shook his head without turning around. "I wasn't trying to kill him then. Just distract him long enough to get through that portal. It's not the same." He glanced back over his shoulder. Duncan seemed profoundly disturbed by Adam's words, but he couldn't seem to stop. "I could have pretended more weakness than I felt, and then launched myself at him if he came close. If I'd killed him –"

"You would have starved to death."

"Actually," said a voice from the doorway, and they both jumped. Adam's father had come in while they weren't paying attention. Could he have heard them mention He-Man? No, there would have been some reaction, surely. "If he'd killed him early on, he would have died of dehydration." Adam blinked. One glass of water with each meal for those first days. It hadn't really been enough as it was. "And even had we been able to find you on the same time table, we would have been too late."

Adam glanced up at Duncan and saw the alarm that his friend and mentor felt reflected on his face. "I hadn't really considered that," he said, his voice horrified. Almost unconsciously he rested his hand on Adam's shoulder, as if to be certain he was really there. For his part, Adam was just as glad the notion of dehydration hadn't occurred to him while he was down in the box.

Randor sighed and leaned carefully against the doorframe. "I had ample time to contemplate it during those first few days. If I'd killed the imposter, as I was sorely tempted to do, I would have narrowed our chance to find Adam down to days." The look he gave Adam was pathetic. "It's a terrible way to die." Duncan nodded vigorously, and Adam found himself wondering about their history. "But, we shouldn't dwell on it. Everything is fine now. Adam is safe." He raised an eyebrow at Duncan. "And I suspect I had better let him get on with his bath, or his mother will come in to find out what's keeping him." With that he withdrew.

"Well, I see he's doing it again," Duncan said musingly.

"What?" Adam asked.

"Checking up on you."

"Oh, yeah." Adam shrugged. It didn't seem so bad right now. "Wonder how long it will last." He sighed.

"Don't worry, Adam. I'm sure he'll get over it soon."

Adam sighed again. He hoped his father wouldn't get over it. Before this had happened it had seemed as if his father was too busy being king to have time for him. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Adam, what is it?" Shrugging, Adam concentrated on cleaning between his toes. "Adam, what's wrong?"

"Does it matter?"

Duncan sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Yes, I think it does. There's enough going on right now that I think you'd better tell me what's bothering you."

Adam closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again and turned to look into his mentor's face. "He's probably let 'affairs of state' slide over the last couple of weeks, right?" Duncan nodded. "So, he's going to have a lot to do. I don't have to be the Sorceress to foresee that he's going to start ignoring me again – though maybe for awhile he'll peek in at odd moments and then run off to do some other lofty thing."

Duncan blinked. "Adam, I know your father is busy much of the time, but it isn't because he doesn't care about you."

Adam shrugged. "I know he cares about me, Duncan. That's not the point. I just don't think he likes me much." When Duncan didn't respond immediately, Adam ducked his head under the water. If Duncan didn't leap to deny it, then it was probably true.

* * *

"No, Marlena, he's sixteen," Randor said, using all the persuasion at his command. "He will not respond well to your presence in his bathing chamber. Boys at that age do not want their mothers to see them unclothed." Randor was, per Dorgan's orders, laying on the bed, resting. Marlena was pacing.

"But I already saw him 'unclothed' when he was examined."

"And if you'll recall, he was distressed about it at the time." Marlena glared at him, but didn't deny the statement. "He'll be out soon. Then you can fuss over him to your heart's content." He could see from her expression that he wasn't winning any points, and he sighed, capturing one of her hands as she passed near him. "My dear, I'm sorry. I don't mean to tease. But if you could see his face when you start punching pillows to get them into shape for him."

Marlena sank into the chair by the bed. "I know I irritate him. But he doesn't talk to me anymore."

"I know how you feel."

"No, Randor, it's different. He hasn't been talking to you for years."

Randor sat up abruptly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a natural law, Randor. Adolescent boys don't talk to their fathers. Adolescent girls do talk to their mothers, but about half the time they lie."

"Marlena! I didn't know you were so cynical."

"It is not cynical, Randor," Marlena exclaimed, looking mildly amused. "It's the way things are." Her eyes grew serious again. "What worries me is that adolescent boys do talk to their mothers, but Adam isn't talking to me."

"No, Marlena, that's not true. He's always seeking you out."

His wife shook her head. "But he doesn't talk to me about anything of any consequence. He used to at least tell me which girls at court he thought were cute. Now he doesn't even do that. I don't know what he's thinking anymore."

"Fortunately, he does talk to Duncan, and there's no one I would trust more." Marlena nodded. "We are most lucky that, in this time of strife, we are surrounded by such good friends."

"Randor," Duncan's voice came from the bathing chamber, sounding peculiarly strained. "Could you come in here?"

Mildly alarmed, Randor got up, waving Marlena back to her chair. She sat primly, irritated by his gesture. He walked into the bathing chamber. "Is something wrong, Duncan?"

"Not really, I just need a hand."

Duncan was leaning across the edge of the tub at an odd angle, holding onto Adam. Randor ran the few remaining steps and into the water. "What happened?"

"He fell asleep. It's not a big deal, but if I let go he'll slide in. Could you hold him steady while I get the soap out of his hair?"

Relieved that it was not really serious, Randor helped Duncan finish Adam's bath and get him out of the water. They dried him off, wrapped him in a robe, and then Duncan lifted him to return him to bed. Randor was frustrated that he couldn't carry him himself.

Duncan and Marlena were dressing Adam in his pajamas with Randor standing at the foot of the bed, looking on, when Dorgan came through the door. He gazed for a moment at the king, who became aware that his pajama pants were creating a puddle around his feet. "Pray tell, your highness, first, why you're not in bed, and, second, why you're dripping on the floor?"

"Oh!" Randor was embarrassed, but he wasn't about to start stripping in front of the healer, Marlena and Duncan. The floor was tile, a little water wouldn't hurt it. "Adam fell asleep in the tub and Duncan needed a little help."

"He did what?" Dorgan walked over to the side of Adam's bed. Marlena was just buttoning up the pajama shirt while Duncan scrubbed his hair dry. "I'd better get a look at him." Dorgan's expression was dark. "So just what are you going to do with that monstrous being, your highness?"

"As I told you before, he will be tried by the masters and, most likely, imprisoned for life."

"It hardly seems sufficient," the healer grated between clenched teeth as he ran his fingers over Adam's skull and looked into his eyes. It was disturbing that the movements didn't awaken him. "He tortured your son, Randor. He should die."

"Dorgan!" Randor was shocked by this sentiment from a healer. "Would you say that if Adam were not the crown prince?"

The healer glared at him. "Yes. One person should not do that to another person. It's abominable, and anyone who would perpetrate such acts should be removed from society."

"Which he will be. He will be imprisoned." Dorgan shook his head in frustration and fell silent as he continued to examine Adam.

Duncan, finished with Adam's hair, walked over, took Randor's arm and pulled him to the side of the room. "Randor, you need to have a serious talk with Adam," he said in quiet, urgent tones. Randor was surprised by the level of intensity.

"What about?"

"He's somehow gotten the notion that you don't like him." Randor stared in astonishment. "I don't know if the imposter said something, or if it's just adolescent angst, but –"

"Duncan, Adam knows I love him."

"Yes, Randor, I know. That's not what I'm talking about. He knows you love him, that you care about him, but he doesn't think you really like him." Randor shook his head in confusion. What did Duncan mean? "They aren't the same thing, you know, love and like. It is possible to love someone you don't much like."

"I don't understand you. He knows I love him, but he thinks –"

"Just talk to him, Randor. Let him feel that you are interested in him as a young man, not just as your son and heir. Get to know him."

"But, Duncan, how would he come to have this impression?"

"I'm not sure, I just know he does. I think you'd better find a way to make time for him in your days, as well, even if things get busy."

Randor didn't know what to say. He had Marlena bemoaning his ability to talk to his son, the imposter saying it didn't seem as though he cared, and now Duncan telling him that Adam didn't think he liked him. When had he suddenly become such a rotten parent? And why hadn't he noticed?

"Randor, what are you thinking?" Duncan said uncomfortably.

"Nothing." He walked into the bathing chamber and stripped out of his pajamas, putting on a robe. He was wringing them out over the tub when Duncan came in behind him.

"Randor, you have to talk to me."

"Why? There's nothing to talk about." He wished Duncan would go away. He wasn't ready to talk about this. He need time to assimilate this notion.

"This is not a time for either of you to be moping."

Randor whirled. "Moping? Is that what you think I'm doing, Duncan!" Randor dropped the pajamas and marched up to his friend. "I need time to think. I can't sit down next to Adam and say, 'by the way, son, I like you.' That's not going to do any good. I can't talk to him about this. I have to work out some means to show him."

Duncan seemed taken aback. "Oh. Of course."

"Don't 'oh, of course' me! I'm not in a mood to be humored! How did you think I was going to react? My son returns from horrendous, torturous imprisonment to tell my friend and his mentor that he doesn't think I _like_ him? What am I doing, or not doing, to give him that impression? I can't keep him safe, and evidently I can't give him the emotional support he needs either!"

"That's not what I'm saying, Randor. It's not that –"

"Don't you give me that nonsense about adolescent boys not talking to their fathers!"

"I wasn't going to! Randor, he's under a lot of stress. You're under a lot of stress. You're neither of you communicating well. It's not your fault any more than it's his."

Randor found himself trying to discover something to be annoyed at in Duncan's statement, but failing. Finally he settled on, "Then whose fault is it?"

Duncan gaped. "No one's. It's really not that abnormal."

"I don't care whether it's normal or not, Duncan! I want my son to be happy!"

"Well, he's going to be awake if you two don't quiet down!" Dorgan snapped, leaning in through the door. "You, get into bed! You, stop antagonizing my patient!" He left the bathroom with irritation.

That man had the uncanny ability to make Randor feel like a naughty boy, and he could tell that Duncan felt the same way. As they started to shuffle out, Randor had an unpleasant thought. He caught Duncan's arm. "Duncan?" His friend turned. "Does Adam like me?"

"Of course he does." Randor blinked. Duncan had spoken automatically, without stopping to consider the question. He wondered if it were true, or if Duncan was telling him what he wanted to hear.

Very much against his will, he got into bed. He didn't want to rest. He had things to be doing. He had so many tasks that had gone undone while Adam was . . .

That was part of the problem, Randor suddenly realized. Everytime he started to think about the distance that had sprung up between the two of them, he diverted himself to some other, less distressing topic. Odd, that running the kingdom would seem less stressful than thinking about his son.

Randor sat back, irritated with himself. Marlena was fussing over Adam, who, asleep, was blissfully unaware of it. Duncan had gone to take care of kingdom affairs and left Randor to stew. Two young men stood just inside the door. Raon was still organizing the heir's guard, and in the meantime, since they were together, the king's guard was protecting them both.

Someone had brought Adam's research materials in here and arrayed them close to the beds. Randor reached out and grabbed a book. As he lifted it, the pages fluttered open and some papers slipped out. Marlena turned as the fluttering caught her eye and said, "No, don't get up, I'll get them." As she picked them up, Randor recognized his own letter.

"Marlena, give that here," he said. She had automatically glanced down to see what the papers were, and when she saw the salutation of the letter, her eyes widened and she sat down, reading. "Marlena, please," he begged. She didn't stop reading. He lay back, mortified. First Teela, now Marlena.

"That wretched, rotten – what he did to both of you!" Marlena started sniffing. She stood up, took the book from Randor, tucked the pages carefully back inside and put it on the bedside table. Then she climbed up onto the bed next to him. "You're such a good father, Randor," she said, cuddling up against his side. He put his arms around her and held her close.

* * *

He woke up some hours later to find that Marlena had fallen asleep beside him, and Adam was in his bed reading, trying not to notice them. Randor levered himself up to a sitting position, and squinted over at his son. "Have we missed lunch?" he asked.

"No," Adam said, looking up from his book. "Dorgan came and said he was going to wake you in a little while for lunch. I think he'll be back in around fifteen minutes."

"How are you feeling?"

Adam shrugged. "Same as always." He closed the book and sat up. "Did I fall asleep in the bath?"

"Yes."

Adam sighed. "I was afraid of that. Is there something wrong with me? How long am I going to keep doing that?"

"Dorgan hasn't told us to worry about it yet." Adam sighed and looked down at his hands. Randor wasn't sure what to say and found himself examining his own hands. He looked up again and said, "What are you reading?"

"Maralon's treatise on the Battle of Firmenar."

"Branching out, are you?" Most of Adam's research had been focused on the Pelian War. The Battle of Firmenar took place roughly two hundred years prior.

"Well, I thought it might be useful to get a better grounding in some of the theories. But Maralon doesn't organize his facts very well."

"Really?"

"Well, he keeps mentioning events out of order, and I can't tell sometimes who he's talking about because instead of using names he keeps referring to them by these flowery descriptions of their prowess or their evil or their looks." He rolled his eyes. "It's kind of frustrating, but I'm learning some very interesting new words."

"I take it he has an extensive vocabulary?"

"That's an understatement. I'm not sure Mother would approve of some of the words I've learned. Not that I'll use them, but –" He shrugged. "You know Mother."

Randor smiled. "Yes, I do."

"It wouldn't be so bad if he'd just use the same ones to refer to the same people consistently. I tried cross referencing them, but he's used the phrase 'jackal of night' to refer to three different people. Not all of whom are bad guys according to other sources. Maralon is heavily biased toward the Spalians."

"They didn't exactly cover themselves in glory at Firmenar if I recall correctly," Randor said.

"Yeah. I picked up on that. Killing the captives was really not good. Their commander was a real jerk."

It was odd listening to Adam discuss these matters so fluently. For one thing, he used such a mixed vocabulary, one minute he sounded like a scholar and the next like the teenager he was. Randor was pleased to see his son getting back involved, and broadening his scope. "So, tell me, have you come up with any new perspectives on the Pelian war since we last talked about it?"

Adam's eyes brightened at this show of interest, and he said, "You really want to hear about it?"

"Of course."

Adam started eagerly laying out his analysis, but before he got very far in it, Marlena woke up and Dorgan came in with lunch. When the conversation became more general, Adam sat back with disappointment. But as soon as lunch was over, Randor turned to him. "So, you were telling me about the Pelian war before your mother woke up."

"Yes," Adam said, "but Mother won't –"

"Oh, don't let me stop you," Marlena said hastily, getting up. "I have some things I need to deal with for your father. I should have been out of here hours ago, but I couldn't tear myself away." She kissed Adam on the forehead and Randor on the lips. "I'll see you both for dinner."

"Please go on, Adam. You were starting to tell me your assessment of Bringal's assault on Pelia."

For a moment, he was afraid that Adam would clam up, but the light came back up in his eyes, and he launched into an animated explanation, to which Randor listened with unfeigned fascination. While always interested in the subject, Randor had never had either the time or the inclination to be a scholar. Yet Adam seemed to have a gift for analysis that amazed his father.

"I have missed these conversations immensely, Adam," Randor said as Adam's oration wound down.

His son's eyes widened, and a broad smile spread across his face. "Really?" he asked.  
"Yes. And not just while you were – er – gone. It's been lacking for some time now."

Adam's jaw worked for a moment, then he grinned. "I agree."

"Good. Then we'll have to set a time that we can meet regularly to do this. Something my secretary will know to schedule around. A non-negotiable time." He was rewarded by the happy look on Adam's face. "What are you going to look into next?"

Adam looked unaccountably embarrassed. "Well, I'm actually taking a break from the Pelian war. I think I'm getting a little to – I don't know – close to the subject. And I've got some ideas that I really think need a – maybe this doesn't make sense, but I feel like I need to know more about military history as a subject before I can really get a handle on some things." As he spoke, the embarrassment faded, and Randor wondered what had occasioned it. "Like the supply problems Bringal had in Pelia and Orenn. I don't know enough to know if they were unusual or fairly normal. The historians vary wildly on the subject, even the ones I've found most reliable. Elegius says Bringal was a fool. Duorven says that Bringal was saboutaged by incompetence on the part of his supply masters. And Korvalen says that everyone else puts too much emphasis on it and that supply problems are a part and parcel of war. I'm thinking that they're all biased in one direction or another, but I simply don't have the knowledge to puzzle out who makes the most sense."

"Well, Elegius has a lot of good points," Randor said diffidently. He, himself, had always relied on the diaries of Elegius when studying this war.

Adam nodded. "Oh, I know. But he seems to have a personal grudge against Bringal. It dates back to a time when they were together at the Pelian court. Unfortunately, the diaries don't go back that far, and since Elegius knew all about it, he doesn't go into any detail when he refers to it. It's kind of frustrating." Adam shifted a little, looking uncomfortable. "I know you really like Elegius, Father, but he has real trouble disregarding his personal likes and dislikes when discussing events. I mean, he was so very offended by the notion of a woman taking up arms, that he totally disregards the contributions of Countess Doyana in lifting the Siege of Orenn." Adam chuckled. "You should have heard Teela. She was furious."

"I'm glad to see you taking a broader look at the subject. It's a good idea not to narrow your field too much."

"You think so? Because Teela seems to think I'm being kind of lazy. You know, she thinks I'm annoyed with my sources for the Pelian war, so I'm just giving up."

Randor shook his head. "In this instance, at least, Teela doesn't know what she's talking about."

Adam grinned. "Can I tell her you said that?"

"Now, Adam, be good," Randor said, getting up to cross the space between the beds. Picking up some of the papers that Adam had spread out as he talked he sat down next to his son. "Have you told her what you just told me?"

"Yes. She just listened with an air of 'whatever.' I wish –" Adam sighed. "I wish things could go back to the way they used to be."

"You mean, before Skeletor broke loose?"

Adam snorted. "Yeah. Before Skeletor broke loose."

Randor put an arm around Adam's shoulders and pulled him close. The boy stiffened for a second, then relaxed into the embrace. "I've missed you, son," he said.

"Me, too," Adam said and leaned in against him. Randor smiled contentedly. This was better than beating Skeletor.

* * *

Adam stared at his father in horrified amazement. "Bodyguards?" he repeated.

"Yes, Adam. Bodyguards. After the last several months, your mother and I are concerned about your safety. And it's not as though I don't have them."

"But –" Adam didn't know what to say. Raon stood at the foot of the bed looking stoic and dignified. He didn't want to insult him, but – bodyguards? How could he run off to become He-Man with two people following him everywhere? From the expression on his father's face, though, there was no way Adam was going to persuade him that bodyguards weren't needed. Truthfully, but for the peculiar needs of He-Man, he might even be glad to have them.

"I know it will be a difficult transition, Adam. Perhaps if we'd started you out with them as a child, it wouldn't seem so problematic, but when you were a child, there didn't seem to be a need." Adam nodded. "So now, Captain Raon has put together a small force of eight carefully chosen men who will take shift to guard you twenty-four hours a day."

Adam looked up at his old friend. "Captain?" Adam could see a slightly pleased expression lurking behind those very proper eyes.

"Yes, your highness?"

"Congratulations on the promotion."

"Thank you, your highness."

If he tried to refuse the bodyguard, he'd look like he was saying that Raon didn't deserve the promotion. How was he going to get out of this? And why hadn't Duncan headed it off before it got this far?

"Are the other men assembled?" Randor asked. Adam looked at him with wide eyes. What was going on?

"Yes, sire," Raon said.

"Then, please, bring them in."

"Father!" Adam hissed. "I'm in bed! I'm wearing monogrammed pajamas!" He heard his voice break and flushed with embarrassment. Raon paused and turned to look at him curiously. "Can't I at least get dressed?" No wonder his father had gotten his mother to get his hair combed neatly and make sure that he looked nice this morning, but he didn't want to meet eight guys who were going to be spending this much time around him in monogrammed pajamas.

"They're waiting, Adam."

"But Father, I –" He looked down at the bed. Standing up would be worse, especially if he was at all wobbly. He stuffed his pillows behind his back so he could sit up straighter and sighed. "Bring them in, I guess."

His father held up a hand to forestall Raon. "Adam, no one is going to be judging you. There's no need to be so uncomfortable."

"That's easy for you to say. I don't see you wearing pajamas!"

Randor shook his head. "Count your blessings. When Duncan assigned me a bodyguard, I didn't meet them at all till they'd been on the job for a week."

Adam had never heard this story. "What? But how come?"

"I was unconscious." He didn't look at his son as he spoke.

"For a week?" His father nodded, still not looking at him. "Dad! I think they call that a coma! What happened?"

"I woke up. Raon, bring them in." Raon stopped goggling, evidently this was news to him, too, and turned away to the door.

Adam glared at his father, for a moment, then shrugged and crossed his arms. "Fine. I'll ask Mother." Outraged, his father returned his glare, and, feeling vindicated, Adam turned back to meet his bodyguards.

Raon opened the door and eight men filed in. Adam was surprised, though not displeased, to see two Avions, two Qadians and an Andrenid among them. "Would you care to review your guard now, your highness?" Raon asked formally. A bit uncomfortable with the sudden ceremony, Adam nodded. They all went to one knee as a body, and Adam stiffened a little, mildly alarmed. He wasn't used to people bowing to him much. They saved that for his father most of the time. He glanced over at his father, who was looking on with approval.

Raon continued to speak to Adam. "We have created a new ranking in the palace guard: Heir's Guard. May I present Heir's Guard Pirschan and Heir's Guard Quick-Wing of the first watch?" The two stood up as Raon named them. Pirschan was evidently a tall, barrel-chested young man with dark hair and green eyes. The Andrenid, Quick-Wing, was shorter and broader than Buzz-Off, with slightly darker stripes. He looked more than capable of carrying Adam for a few miles, though one hoped it wouldn't be necessary. Adam nodded, but he didn't quite trust himself to speak. "May I present Heir's Guard Raven and Heir's Guard Marcus of the second watch?" Raven was a burly-looking Avion with dark beard and wings. Adam knew Marcus slightly from when they'd all been boys. He thought he'd been one of Raon's friends back then, but he wasn't sure. Adam nodded again, smiling at them. "May I present Heir's Guard Marran and Heir's Guard Nimbar of the third watch?" Marran was a dark red Qadian with darker brown hair, and Nimbar was a very tall, slender Avion with blond hair. Adam nodded a third time. "Finally, may I present Heir's Guard Felinar and Heir's Guard Nalineph of the fourth watch?" Felinar, the second Qadian, was paler. Adam wasn't sure what Qadians called the color, but Adam would have called him blond. There were black patches on his legs and on his arms. Nalineph had light brown hair and fair skin with a smattering of freckles. Adam thought he came from one of the southern levies.

They were all standing now, and looking at him. Adam realized that he should probably figure out something to say, but he found himself tongue-tied. "I – um –" He gulped and took a deep breath. "I am honored to accept your service." He shot a desperate look at his father who came to his rescue.

His father smiled, and said, "You are all good men and excellent soldiers, or you would not have been selected for this duty. You do Eternia and her people, as well as the queen and I, a great service by taking up this task." Adam fought against the desire to hide under the covers. The way his father was talking made him sound like some kind of national treasure that had to be guarded. He felt his face go red, and hoped they'd all put it down to his condition. From the amused look on Raon's face, though, he thought there was small chance of that.

Raon dismissed all but two of the guards, Pirschan and Quick-Wing of the first watch. He stationed Pirschan outside the door with one of Adam's father's guards and Quick-Wing inside with the other of his father's guards. Adam slumped in his bed. This was just great. The Heir's Guard. He closed his eyes as a rotten thought occurred to him. What was Teela going to say?

As if she'd heard his thought, the door opened and Teela walked in. Raon had gone to confer with Adam's father. Teela paid no attention to the guards, used to there always being guards around the king and walked over to Adam's bed. "How are you feeling, Adam?" she asked, leaning against the frame at the foot of the bed.

"Okay, I guess," he said, wondering when the cracks were going to start.

She looked over at his father talking to Raon and said, "When did he get promoted? Sergeant to Captain's quite a jump." Adam looked up at her incredulously. Teela didn't know yet? So now he got to watch her finding out. Oh joy.

"Um, I'm not sure, some time in the last couple of days, I think," Adam said. "Where have you been?"

"I was informed that I had to take a couple of days off. Father seems to think that I've been working too hard, and since he didn't think I would stop unless I was gone, he sent me to visit those cousins with the farm on the fertile plain." Adam nodded. So that's how she managed not to hear about this.

"Ah, Teela, I'm glad you're back," Randor said as he and Raon finished their conference. Raon saluted Adam and left the room.

"Thanks," she said. "I really didn't need the break, though." Adam's father just smiled at her. Adam knew that he wouldn't take sides between Duncan and Teela, despite her occasional attempts to get royal support in the face of some annoying fatherly decree. She gestured toward Raon's departure and said, "What's that all about?"

"Oh, Raon has been appointed Captain of the Heir's Guard."

"Heir's Guard. What's that?" She hitched herself up to sit cross-legged on Adam's bed.

"We have instituted a permanent bodyguard on Adam. Raon will command it and they've just started work today."

Teela's back straightened. "You've put a bodyguard on Adam? And Raon is going to command it?"

"Yes, Teela. He has shown great initiative in volunteering for the post, and he has organized it very well. I think he'll do an excellent job."

"Oh, I'm not saying he won't, but what about me?" she asked. Adam stared at her, horror-struck. It could have been worse, he saw that now.

"Teela, you're female."

"So what?" she demanded. "I'm the Captain of the Guard. What's my being a girl got to do with it?"

Randor seemed a bit startled by her reaction. "I don't think you understand my meaning, Teela. The prince's personal bodyguards should be male, for propriety's sake, and he's proven incapable of not defending you if you were in danger on more than one occasion now. It's no slur on your abilities."

"Oh." Her anger subsided largely, but she still glared at the king. "But I wasn't even consulted. Who has been assigned to this Heir's Guard?"

"You were on leave, Teela, and I didn't want to wait. Most of the guards have been drawn from the levies, in any case. You've lost Pirschan and Marcus from the palace guard. Oh, and Raon, of course."

Adam watched this with bated breath. Teela was actually talking back to his father. It was an astonishing development. Her gaze fell on him, and he stiffened, waiting for some scathing remark about his inability to defend himself. "Those are good choices," she said, nodding.

"I'm glad you approve."

"Oh, your highness, I didn't mean –"

"Don't disturb yourself, Teela, I wasn't being sarcastic. I would have consulted you, but I didn't find out your father was sending you away until it was too late."

Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Adam watched Teela's face. "I see. I'm sorry, your highness, I shouldn't have overreacted."

"Your concern for Adam's safety is natural."

Teela nodded, then turned back to Adam. "So, are you still dropping off like you have been?" She hadn't made any snotty comments yet. Adam wondered what was wrong. He nodded. "Have you warned the guards?" Teela asked his father.

"I hadn't informed them yet, no."

Teela got up. "I'll go ask Dorgan if there's anything else they should be aware of and let Raon know."

"Thank you, Teela."

"I'll be back in later to trounce you at cards, your highness," she promised Adam and left with a cheery wave.

"What's wrong with her?" Adam muttered, watching her leave.

"What Adam?"

Adam sat up and looked at his father innocently. "Oh, nothing, Father."

His father stood up and walked over to his bed again, and Adam scrunched his legs up so he could sit down. "Adam, if you think there's something wrong with Teela, then you really must say something. The ordeal you and she went through is still very recent."

Adam didn't really want to think about that. "It's nothing, Father. I just – I sort of expected she'd make some kind of crack about how pathetic I was to need a bodyguard. She usually does, after all." Adam shrugged. "She usually ribs me every chance she gets."

"Oh." His father looked thoughtful. "After what happened, she may not get back to that sort of thing very quickly, Adam. She just spent several days worrying about you and caring for you. It may take her some time to recover from that."

"It's not like she didn't rib me enough while we were there."

"That's different. You see this sort of behavior in prisoners of war, Adam. During the captivity, they try to act as normally together as possible, because everything around them is abnormal. But when they return home, it's more difficult."

"We weren't prisoners of war, Father," Adam felt constrained to point out.

"No, that's true, but your circumstances were similar. You were held without much communication with the outside world, without any clear idea of when you would be freed. And truly, I'm not sure which of you was worse off. You got tortured, but she had to –"

Adam broke in, unable to contain his reaction. "I wasn't tortured!"

* * *

Randor gazed with deep concern at Adam's appalled expression. "Adam, what would you call it?"

"What do you mean, what would I call it? It was just him showing off. Torture is when people ask you questions and hit you when you won't answer. Like when Skeletor had you during that first battle and wanted to know where the Elders were."

"That's not the only form torture can take." Randor shook his head. "If he did to your mother what he did to you, would you call it torture?"

Adam's eyes widened and his face blanched. He started to pull his knees up to his chest to hug them, but winced as he made contact with the burn there. "How can you even say that?" he demanded, his body posture as closed as it could get. "That cell is secure, isn't it? He can't get out, can he?"

"No." Belatedly, Randor remembered that he had threatened to kill Marlena as a means of keeping Adam under control. "No, he's secure."

"Good." Adam looked down at his toes on the bed covers. Randor wished he could see into his head to know what he was thinking. Perhaps he'd better address this issue later, when his son was calmer.

"All I really wanted to say, Adam, was that Teela may not behave normally around you for awhile, but not to worry. I'm sure she'll be her usual self soon enough."

Adam shrugged, not looking up. "So she'll be insulting me again in no time," he said apathetically. "Terrific."

Randor didn't know what to say to pull Adam out of this funk. A sudden movement on the floor made them both jump, and Cringer dragged himself out from under Adam's bed, yawning and stretching. He turned and sat down, wrapping his tail around his paws and blinked at them sleepily.

"Hey, Cringer," Adam said. "Come on up." He patted the bed next to him. The cat jumped up and stretched out next to his master, butting his head against Adam's hand. Randor noticed that it was Adam's left hand, and the burn was apparently not paining him as much any longer. He smiled, pleased by the evidence of physical recovery, though worried by Adam's refusal to acknowledge what had taken place. He stood up and went back to his own bed. Adam had shut him out completely, focused totally on Cringer. Now was clearly not the time to pursue a conversation about what he had experienced at the hands of that monster.

Randor picked up a book and settled back. He could wait. He didn't have much choice in the matter. After they'd gotten the bodyguards assigned, Marlena had refused to allow him any more files, and had given strict orders to the medics to remove any he managed to have someone smuggle in. The book he was reading failed to capture his attention, however, and he found himself gazing out the window. This invalid thing was for the birds.

"When I was here earlier, I started giving the squirrels names," Adam said suddenly. "I think the one sitting up on that third branch up there is Quibble. He's always arguing with the others."

"Oh, really?" Randor said. "What about the one over there on the corner of the roof?"

"That one's Tricky. See that kink in his tail? I can always tell him from the others."

Adam described the personalities of the other squirrels that came into view. Randor listened, amused by the whimsy. The low-key conversation seemed to calm his son, and by the time lunch arrived, he seemed almost back to normal. Randor was worried, though. It wasn't good that Adam couldn't accept that the weasel's treatment of him was torture. Unless and until Adam recognized what had happened, he couldn't begin to recover.

* * *

Adam watched morosely as his father left the infirmary. They'd spent a week in the same room, both confined to bed, and it had actually been pleasant. They'd talked a lot, about a lot of things, and because there weren't any fights going on, Adam hadn't had any reason to lie about He-Man. Now his father had been released, but Adam was still stuck in the infirmary. Not in bed any more, at least, but not allowed to leave.

He went to Dorgan. "So, when do I start my physical therapy?"

"Now, if you like," the healer said, taking him off to get started. Though Adam had already started this, he led him through the exercises slowly. When Adam tried to go faster, though, he shook his head. "No, my boy. You need to go more slowly. Your enforced inactivity has put you behind, I'm afraid, so you will have to go back to the beginning."

When they were done, Dorgan unstrapped the weights and put them away. Adam sighed and went back to his room, closing the door behind him. Quick-Wing came in and posted himself by the door. Adam hadn't found the Andrenid particularly talkative thus far, but he suddenly realized that his taciturnity could be a benefit. Staying close to the foot of the bed, so he could catch himself if he started to fall, he started doing knee bends. Dorgan's way was going to take too long. Adam wanted to be fit as soon as possible. He was doing push-ups when Dorgan came in with his lunch.

"Prince Adam!" Dorgan said in a shocked, angry voice. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Adam rolled onto his back, breathing heavily. His legs were very tired, and his chest ached, but he looked defiantly up at the healer. "I'm working on my muscles," he said. "I want to get fit."

"Well overworking yourself isn't they way to get there, young man. Into bed with you, now!"

"I feel fine, Dorgan. I'm tired, but it's a good tired."

"We'll just see what your father has to say about this." So saying, Dorgan placed the tray on the bedside table and started to leave.

"What's Dad going to do?" Adam demanded, getting shakily to his feet. It wasn't as hard as he'd expected. "Tie me to the bed?" Dorgan stopped and turned back blinking in surprise to see his charge angry and upright. "It would take that. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet the next time evil comes knocking, Dorgan! Next time somebody's going to have to hit me over the head with a club if they want to burn me!"

"I see," he said. "I just don't want you to set your progress back."

"That's the last thing I want, Dorgan. If I start getting too tired, I'll stop, okay?"

"Be careful what you do. You haven't had one of those sleeping spells in awhile, but I'd want you to be free of them for at least a month before I'd let you do anything risky."

Adam sighed. "If I'm doing push-ups, I won't have very far to fall. I won't go climbing or anything. Besides, where would I go? I'm not allowed to leave the infirmary, and I'm not planning on climbing the walls."

Dorgan still looked dubious, but he nodded. "Fine. Just be sure to rest frequently, young man."

Adam agreed, mostly to get Dorgan out of his room. He ate his lunch, wondering if his father was going to try to stop him from exercising. When he was done eating, he stood up again and started to stretch his legs again.

"You might want to ease up on your left leg, your highness," said Quick-Wing diffidently, causing Adam to look up in surprise.

"What?"

"It's getting a little enflamed, I think," the Andrenid said. "You might want to work on your arms for awhile."

Adam tilted his head curiously. "How can you tell?"

"I can see the heat in the muscle."

"Oh. Adam looked down at his leg and decided to believe him. "Thanks." He sat down and started doing isometric stretches to work his arm muscles.

* * *

Randor was walking across the courtyard to see Duncan when he saw Dorgan bearing down on him. He could nearly see the stormclouds gathering over the healer's head as he approached. He turned to meet him. "Yes, Dorgan, is there a problem?"

"Your son. He's not following orders."

"Adam?"

"Do you have another son?"

"Dorgan, there's no need for sarcasm. What is Adam doing or not doing?"

"Right after you left, he reported for therapy," Dorgan said sourly. "Well and good, I thought, he's not going to let the grass grow under his feet this time." Randor nodded impatiently. "But when I took his lunch in to him an hour after we had finished with his therapy, he was exercising!"

"He was exercising," Randor repeated, not entirely understanding what the problem was. "Surely that's a good thing."

Dorgan shook his head in irritation. "Too much of a good thing is still too much, Randor. He can't be permitted to overwork or he could injure himself. There's a reason therapy is supervised." Randor opened his mouth to reply but Dorgan wasn't finished. "Especially for someone who has had sleeping spells within the last week."

"I do see what you mean, Dorgan. I'll go see him this evening and have a talk with him about it."

"Go talk to him now, Randor! I told him to stop and he refused."

"Point blank?"

"Yes. Then I told him I was going to talk to you about it, and he said, 'what's he going to do, tie me to the bed?'"

Randor, though appalled by that level of defiance in his son to a man of Dorgan's years and position, found himself stifling laughter. There was no doubting that, whatever Adam's residual problems from his captivity might be, he was not broken.

"It's not funny!" Dorgan yelled.

Randor took a step back. "I wasn't laughing."

"You were NOT laughing so hard that your eyes crossed! He cannot be permitted to refuse medical instructions or he might wind up like a certain other person I know with a knee brace!"

"I followed your instructions!" Randor exclaimed in outrage. "You told me there was nothing more to be done!"

"I don't recall telling you to jump off that wall!"

"I suppose I could have let myself get killed, but it didn't seem like the wisest choice!"

"An arrow would have been easier to fix!"

"Not if it went through my heart!"

Randor became aware suddenly that they were at the heart of a silent courtyard full of frozen courtiers and servants with wide eyes. Dorgan opened his mouth to respond, but he seemed to notice the scattered observers and closed his mouth like a trap.

"Your highness, I would like to request that you come immediately to speak with your son," the healer said in measured tones.

"I will be there within the hour," Randor replied in like manner.

They turned and walked their separate ways, both radiating offended dignity, and neither meeting anyone's eyes. He entered Duncan's workshop and closed the door. He sat down and let out a deep sigh. Duncan turned and said, "Randor? Is something wrong?"

"I just had a screaming fight with Dorgan."

"Good."

"Good?" Randor was shocked.

"Yes, good. You've both been under a lot of stress. It's time you let some steam off."

"In a public courtyard?"

Duncan blinked. "Well, maybe not." He shrugged. "I'm sure there's no harm done, though. What were you fighting about?"

"Adam. Apparently he's trying to rush his recovery. Dorgan's afraid he'll injure himself."

"Has Dorgan talked to him about?"

"Yes. Adam's evidently not in a mood to be told what to do. According to Dorgan, Adam said –" Randor found that the laughter he'd supressed earlier was now bubbling out of him. "When he threatened to tell me, Adam said – he said, 'what's dad going to do, tie me to my bed?'"

Duncan raised his eyebrows. "Oh," he said neutrally.

"I had to get out of the public eye, but I'm going to go speak with Adam as soon as I'm a little better under control."

"I see."

"However, when I've had a chat with Adam, I'd like you to take me to Greyskull."

Duncan started to speak, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat. "Why?" he asked in an odd tone of voice. "You've never shown any interest in Greyskull before."

"Well, don't you think I need to thank the Sorceress for her help?" Randor asked, surprised by Duncan's peculiar reaction. "Without her, we might never have located their prison. They could both be dead by now. Or worse, they could still be down there."

"Oh, I see. Of course. Yes, I'll take you to Greyskull, although the Sorceress will say that she was only serving the interests of the Elders."

"I don't care whose interests she was serving. I want to thank her for helping us save my son and your daughter."

"I'll take you, Randor. I was just warning you. She's not fond of visitors, and she can be somewhat brusque."

"I can handle it, Duncan." Randor stood up. "I'd better go see Adam."

When he arrived at Adam's room in the infirmary, however, Adam was sound asleep. He made sure the covers were properly situated and gazed down at the sleeping face for a moment. He always looked so young and vulnerable when he slept.

He turned to Quick-Wing, the Heir's Guard on duty. "Pardon me, but you've been in here all day to this point, correct?"

"Since seven this morning, your highness."

"Can you tell me, would you say he was overworking himself?"

Randor was not yet good at reading Andrenids, so he wasn't sure how to interpret Quick-Wing's expression. "That would depend on one's definition, your highness." Randor waited, dissatisfied with the answer. After a moment, the Andrenid continued. "He worked himself to exhaustion, but I do not believe he injured himself. As you can see, he is resting comfortably."

"Thank you." Randor looked again at his son, who was, indeed, sleeping peacefully, then he walked back out into the infirmary.

"I didn't hear any yelling," Dorgan said sourly.

"Adam's asleep. I'll be back later in the day. Monitor the situation until then, if you would."

Dorgan nodded sharply, then turned away. Randor could see he was still not back in favor with the old healer. Sighing, he left the infirmary and returned to Duncan's lab. "Adam's asleep, so the lecture is put off until later. Can we go to Greyskull now?"

"As you wish, your highness. Let us inform your guards so that they can accompany us."

Randor raised an eyebrow. It seemed Duncan wasn't going to let him slide on his level of security. "Very well."

There was a slight alteration in their plans when Randor went to tell Marlena where he was going. She raised her eyebrows at the news, and said, "I'm coming with you."

"But Marlena, it may not be safe."

"If you're going to thank the Sorceress for her aid, I should be there, Randor. He's my son, too. I insist."

Faced with her adamant resolve, Randor gave way. They took a wind raider, with one of his guard in the back, and two riding sky sleds flanking them. Duncan took the pilot's seat and Marlena sat between them. The trip to the castle took very little time, but Randor enjoyed being outside and in the wind again. It had been a long time since he'd had such an opportunity that wasn't occasioned by some desperate crisis.

They landed near the chasm that surrounded the massive keep. As they approached the drawbridge, it opened. Instinctively, Randor put an arm around Marlena's shoulders and drew her close, his other hand on his sword hilt. As they started toward the bridge, Duncan held them back. "The guards will stay out here."

"But Man-At-Arms!" exclaimed Arden, the Captain of the King's Guard. "We can't let the king and queen go into that place unescorted."

"There is no safer place on Eternia." The force of Duncan's words was such that it silenced Arden, which surprised Randor, because Arden was more than capable of being quite forceful on his own. The king looked up at the skull-shaped building warily. So this was the repository for all the power of the Elders. There was no doubting that it was formidable in appearance. And forbidding

They crossed the drawbridge slowly and entered the dark maw that was the keep's entrance. Marlena shivered slightly as they were swallowed by the darkness, and Randor sympathized. As Duncan led the way through the dim galleries, Randor kept his arm around his wife. Inside, the place was a maze of cavernous passages and colossal pillars topped with grotesquely carved images. The peaks of the vaulted ceilings were lost in stygian darkness far over their heads. The air felt heavy with gloom and solitude. What must it be like to live in such a place, Randor wondered.

Finally, they reached an enormous hall. As they stepped across the threshold, light blossomed from invisible sources, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. Ahead, a pair of staircases rose in graceful arcs, joining together at a landing halfway up, only to separate again and form an oval when they joined at the very top. The long gallery seemed designed to hold nothing more than this elegant dias and the throne atop it.

A serious-faced woman stood strongly before the throne, looking down on them with an unreadable expression in her eyes. She was garbed in an ancient style, in green, gold and white, and magnificent white wings, limned in gold at the leading edge, sprouted from her shoulders. In one hand, she held a bird-headed staff. Randor paused in awe at the sight of her. Then, resolutely, he made his way forward with Marlena at his side.

The woman abruptly leapt into the air and soared down to the floor of the hall. Randor broke stride for a moment, but strode forward again to meet her.

"Well met, Randor, King of Eternia; well met, Queen Marlena," she said in a low, musical voice. It was a familiar voice, and Randor realized that he was now seeing the face of the woman who, so many years ago, had promised that a hero would come to the defense of the people of Eternia. "I am the Sorceress of Greyskull."

"I guessed," Randor said dryly, then grunted slightly as Marlena elbowed him in the ribs. The Sorceress raised an eyebrow at this marital byplay. He cleared his throat sheepishly, embarrassed at having spoken without thinking. "I mean, it is a pleasure to meet you at last." She nodded. "We wanted to express our appreciation for your help in locating Adam and Teela. Without your invaluable assistance, they might both still be far beneath the Sea of Rakash."

"I only wish I could have found them sooner. Or more accurately."

Marlena reached out impulsively and took her hand. The Sorceress seemed to be surprised by this liberty, but she didn't object. "You shortened our search by many days, and for that we are more grateful than we can express."

The Sorceress smiled at Marlena. "I, too, know what it is to watch powerlessly while your loved ones are in harm's way. I am glad that I could help."

Marlena stepped back, releasing the Sorceress' hand, and put an arm around Randor. Duncan stepped forward. "Thank you for receiving us, Sorceress," he said. "I'm sure that –"

Sensing that Duncan was about to bring the audience to an end, Randor put a hand on his arm. "One moment, Duncan." They all turned to look at him curiously. "Please forgive me, Sorceress, but I would ask one thing more." Duncan was giving him a Look, trying to get him to stop talking, but Randor ignored him. The Sorceress merely raised an eyebrow in query. "The imposter still wears the form of my son, and there is nothing we can do to force him to change. It is disturbing and potentially dangerous."

The woman's eyes widened, and she nodded. "That I can understand." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "I will return in a moment." Then she took off and winged quickly out of sight.

Duncan watched her out of sight with an odd expression on his face. "Duncan, I get the impression you'd rather I didn't speak out of turn."

"She's a very reserved person."

Randor nodded. "I got that impression," he said wryly. "But you didn't hesitate to come here and ask for help. In fact, I believe you come here fairly often. How has that come about?"

There was a slightly panicked look on Duncan's face as he responded. "We have a –" He paused, as though editing what he'd been about to say. "We have worked together in the past."

Duncan's expression and the edited remark gave Randor an intriguing notion. "You were about to say you had a relationship, Duncan. What sort of relationship?"

"I wasn't –"

"Duncan!" Marlena exclaimed. "Are you courting this woman?"

"By the Elders, no! What on Eternia gives you that idea?"

Randor smiled at his friend's discomfiture. "I think it's a marvelous idea, Duncan. You've been alone too long."

"Yes," Marlena said. "She seems lovely. And very kind. I know you bring Adam here often, and it's good of her to put up with his antics."

Duncan mouthed wordlessly for a moment. "Well, he's curious," he said finally. "And he's very polite."

"Well, there is no need for you to bring him here if he's in the way," Randor said.

"There's nothing to be in the way of!"

"Don't worry, Duncan, I'm sure that will change," Marlena said confidingly, patting his hand. "Just give it time."

"There's nothing going on!" Duncan looked desperately embarrassed.

"Well, but," Randor said. "What other reason could you possibly have for coming out here so often?"

Duncan was still staring at them, mouth hanging open, when the Sorceress returned and alit before them. "Man-At-Arms?" she said with mild alarm. "Is something wrong?"

His jaw snapped shut. "No, Sorceress. Everything's fine." Randor shared a meaningful glance with Marlena, much amused by his friend's sudden venture into romance.

The Sorceress gazed at him for a moment, then turned to face the king and queen. "This is a charm that will return the imposter to his natural form," she said, holding out a silver and platinum bracelet and a key. "Simply lock it around his wrist and it will magically bind itself to him. His form will revert, and he will stay that way until the bracelet is unlocked."

"Couldn't he just use his magic to unlock it?" Randor asked curiously, taking the small item.

"Only the key will unlock the bracelet, and once it has bound itself to him, his magic cannot affect it in any way."

Randor nodded. "Thank you, Sorceress. If you ever have need to call on me, I will be at your service."

She inclined her head regally, then took flight again and left the audience chamber. Randor watched her go, wondering what her connection to He-Man was. Duncan, looking highly irritated, said, "It's time for us to leave now."

"By all means, Duncan, let us take our departure," Randor said genially, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Marlena threaded her arm through his as they wended their outward journey, and Randor considered the place yet again. Perhaps a marriage could lighten the gloom, and it would surely lift the solitude. Duncan was such a private man; it wasn't kind to tease him too much. Randor would have to try to keep himself in check.

* * *

"Well, Duncan," Randor said as they landed back at the palace. "Would you like to come with me while I give our guest this present?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Duncan said, grinning, his earlier ill humor forgotten. They started off together toward the prison. Randor wasn't prepared for Marlena's reaction.

"Nor would I," she said, walking alongside.

Randor stopped in his tracks. "No, Marlena. There's no need for you to come."

She looked up at him, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. "No need? Perhaps there isn't, but I am coming. I want to see that little weasel get some portion of what he deserves."

"I don't want you anywhere near him when we open that cell," Randor exclaimed.

Her back stiffened. "Randor, I beg to point out that he has done a great deal of harm to you. I don't particularly want you to be there when they open that door, but I'm not gainsaying your right to participate." Randor gazed at her, open-mouthed. "There will be guards, won't there?" He nodded. "If there is sufficient security for you to be present, then there should be enough for me. Just give me a gun and I can help cover him."

Randor could see by the set of her jaw that she would not be persuaded to back down from this stance, so, sighing, he offered her his arm and the three of them continued toward the prison. Duncan had very wisely stayed out of the debate. "Very well. I will see that you are outfitted properly. But when was the last time you fired a gun?"

"This morning," she said calmly.

"When?" he asked in surprise.

She gave him an amused look. "After Adam was taken by Skeletor, I decided that I had better improve my skill. It had been years since you last took me target shooting, so I went out to the range and started practicing again."

"Oh." Randor was occasionally amazed by his wife. She was such a tiny, delicate-seeming creature, forged of iron.

They paused at the guard's armory in order provide Marlena with her choice of weapons, then proceeded to the prison. They got some odd looks from the wardens as they passed through the halls. It was unusual to see the queen carrying a weapon. The cell where Duncan had installed his forceshield was on a hall by itself. The independent generator took up most of a cell, and they didn't want to risk it being interfered with should trouble arise in the prison in any case.

Before they walked into sight of the prisoner, they stopped to confer with his guards. "Has he changed his form at all in the last few hours?"

"No, your highness. He's still insisting that we have the wrong prince down in the infirmary." All the wardens seemed discomfited by this fact.

"Well, we can put a stop to that," Randor said with grim pleasure. Swiftly, he outlined his plan to place the magical restraint on the imposter. The wardens, Duncan and Marlena would stand ready with stunners while Randor opened the door. He encountered a bit of resistance on that point, but he overruled it with a firm hand. He was going to see this through himself. True to her word, Marlena raised no objections, but she did look worried. Duncan glowered, but he lacked sufficient authority to stop him.

When they stepped into the imposter's view, he turned to see who had come to visit him. His eyes widened to see both the king and queen, and he rushed to the bars that fronted the prison. "Father! Mother! Thank the Elders you're all right!" His eyes welled up with tears. "Please, you've just got to let me out! Can't you tell it's me? He's dangerous! There's no telling what he'll do!"

"Is that so?" Randor asked, glaring at the weasel. "Tell me, then, Adam, what did you call Evil-Lyn when you told me she said the imposter was sick?"

The imposter blinked for a minute, then said, "I don't remember, Father. I can't think right now."

"What did we give you for your fifth birthday? How old were you when you asked Duncan to give you a bionic neck like Mekanek's? How did you react when I told you that you shouldn't have jumped in front of me when Tri-Klops blew up the door to your room? Come on, surely you can answer one of my questions. Just one? How old were you the first time you broke your leg?"

The imposter looked like he was trying desperately to come up with an answer. The guards around them looked uneasily at one another. "I was seven or eight, I think, I don't remember! It was a long time ago."

Marlena let out a snort and a couple of the guards who'd been around awhile opened their mouths in surprised enlightenment. Randor tilted his head and smiled. "Wrong," he said smugly. "Adam was sixteen the first time he broke his leg. You remember, about three months ago?"

For a long moment, the imposter stared at him in disbelief. "You tricked me!" he ground out, finally.

"Did you really expect to be able to persuade me you were my son? Aside from the fact that you can't hide the vile monster that lives behind those eyes, I've had several long talks with Adam in the last few days. You couldn't have simulated that."

"But you never talk to him!" the imposter exclaimed. "I've been watching for months. You practically ignore his existence."

"Yes, and I suppose I should thank you for rekindling the relationship between my son and I. I won't, but I suppose I should."

"So, did you ever really care about the brat? Or was it just about beating me?"

Randor drew himself up to his full height and looked down at the imposter. "Beating you was a bonus. It was about my son." The weasel's eyes narrowed, and he turned away from Randor towards Marlena, gazing at the readied gun in her hands.

He took a deep breath and threw his shoulders back insolently. "Well, it is nice to get so friendly a visit from my loving parents," he said. "So, Mother," he said in mocking tones. "Do you still want to know if Father's treating me oddly?"

"Quiet, you!" one of the wardens said. "Don't talk like that to the queen."

"No, let him," Marlena said in a flat, hostile voice. "It will only make it easier to shoot him if I have to."

"You know, it's odd. I told Adam that I'd kill you if he misbehaved. I even showed him what I'd do, burned a chair to ash in about a second. Yet he continued to act up. I wonder why that is."

"Perhaps because my son knows what I expect of him," Marlena said calmly.

"What you expect of him? You people really are harsh on your children."

"So, Randor," Marlena said, glancing over at her husband, who raised an eyebrow, curious what she was going to say. "How long do you think it would take him to run out of vile, insulting things to say? Shall we time it?" The imposter seemed to be brought up short by this, and he looked on the queen with surprise. He turned to Randor, perhaps seeking more familiar prey.

"So, how is the little prince? Still sniveling, I hope? Or has someone else kidnapped him? He's startlingly easy to catch, poor boy. One might think you wanted him out of the way." Randor said nothing, but walked toward the door of the cell. After all the time he'd spent in the presence of this creature who was not Adam, he barely noticed any longer that they looked alike.

Randor gestured the others forward and walked to the door of the cell. As they all took their positions, the imposter began to look nervous. The expression only served to empahsize the differences between his son and the weasel. Adam would never look so craven. "What are you doing?" the imposter demanded.

"Ready?" Randor asked. The others nodded. He opened the door. The imposter made to lunge toward him, but Marlena's stunner fired, striking him squarely in the chest. He was unconscious before he hit the floor and Randor moved in swiftly, snapping the bracelet around his wrist and locking in place. Once it was secure, he retreated and slammed the door shut behind him. Once outside, Randor turned to watch, to see the transformation.

The form of the man shimmered and seemed almost to become liquid. The body lengthened and gained more mass around the middle. The hair darkened and straggled away to reveal a bald spot in the middle of the back of his head. Randor's gut twisted. He'd known that the man couldn't be as young as Adam, but somehow this fact hadn't hit home as powerfully as it did now when it was revealed that he was balding. When the imposter's shape seemed solid again, he was revealed to be a man of ordinary build with sallow skin, thin brown hair and dark eyes. He shook his head and got up off the floor, looking toward the door. He saw Randor and said, "What were you –" He stopped speaking abruptly as he heard an unexpectedly deep voice issue forth from his mouth.

Marlena spoke suddenly in cold tones. "I'm afraid you must be mistaken. I'm not old enough to be your mother."

"What have you done?" he demanded, looking down at himself. "What have I become?"

"Yourself," Randor said. "Much joy may it bring you."

"Myself? I haven't been myself since I was eighteen!" Randor raised an eyebrow.

"Then this should be a novel experience for you." Randor put an arm out to Marlena. "Shall we go, my dear?"

"You haven't beaten me, Randor!" the imposter cried as they left. "I will destroy you! I will escape, and when I catch Adam again, I will incinerate him slowly. He'll scream himself hoarse as pieces of his body are seared away. You'll be able to follow a trail of his ashes, but when you reach the end, you'll find nothing but charred bits of bone." Marlena squeezed his arm as he stiffened, but they kept walking away. "And then I'll come after you! And when I've got you –"

They passed out of hearing. Leaving the gun with one of the guards, he and Marlena made their way to their rooms. The queen's calm mask shattered, and she threw herself into Randor's arms weeping as though her heart would break. "He won't get away, Marlena," Randor murmured into her hair. "Adam is safe." He sank into a chair, holding her close. "He'll be safe." But he could not rid himself of the image of Adam, writhing and screaming at the hands of the middle-aged man he'd just left. Of Adam, alone with his tormentor, dying in agony.

* * *

Adam awoke when his father came in bearing his dinner. He stretched, yawning. His muscles ached, but not unbearably. It felt like he'd had a good workout, no worse. From the grave look on his father's face, however, Dorgan had kept his threat to tell the king of Adam's mutiny.

"I thought you were going to dine with the court tonight," he said, sitting up and taking the tray. He looked up at his father, who actually seemed more serious than Dorgan's telling on him would explain.

"I am. But that's an hour or so off, yet." His father pulled the chair next to the bed out from the wall and turned it to face Adam. Sitting down, he gazed soberly at his son. Adam started eating, knowing full well that if he didn't, a lecture on diet would follow the one on exercise. "Dorgan tells me that you refused to follow his medical advice today."

Adam shrugged irritably. "He wants me to take it too slowly. If I stick to the pace he sets, I'll be in bed until I'm thirty."

"He's concerned that you'll injure yourself if you move too quickly." The king seemed very tired, and upset somehow at a very deep level. Adam wondered what was wrong, but he wasn't sure he should ask.

"I'm being careful, Father," he said persuasively. "I'm not going to risk being stuck in bed longer, I promise you that." His father snorted his agreement, but he didn't look entirely convinced. "Quick-Wing can see the heat in my muscles when I've done too much, you know," Adam said casually. "He can tell, and he tells me."

"Really? That's a useful talent." Randor looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll tell Dorgan to ease off his restrictions." Adam grinned, but his father held up a hand. "As long as you promise me a couple of things." Adam nodded eagerly. "If you start getting tired, you'll stop."

"I promise."

"If you feel any pain, you'll stop and get Dorgan."

Adam looked pleadingly at his father, but he could see this was non-negotiable. He sighed, looking down at his plate. "I guess."

"Now, I had something else I wanted to talk to you about." The deep unease that Adam had sensed earlier came suddenly the the forefront.

"What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, his father managed a smile. "Well, I have good news for you. The imposter no longer looks like you."

Adam wanted to grin, but his father seemed less than enthusiastic. "Who does he look like, then?" he asked.

"Himself, actually. We used a magical bracelet to force him back into his own shape, and he won't be able to shapeshift unless we remove the restraint."

"But, that's great!" Adam exclaimed. His father seemed so worried. "Isn't it?"

His father looked up, seeming startled by the question. He shook his head as though to clear it. "Yes, of course, it is." He shrugged. "If you're interested, he looks to be about my age and has thinning brown hair."

Adam wasn't all that sure he wanted to know what the imposter looked like as himself. There was nothing about the situation that was not creepy.

His father wasn't done, though, and his eyes were dark with some unspoken fear. "However, there is something else that I thought I'd better mention to you. The way stories spread around here, you're bound to hear it sooner or later, and I'd rather you heard it from me."

"What?" Adam asked, growing alarmed.

Randor took another deep breath and let it out slowly. Something was disturbing him deeply, and Adam was concerned. Was whatever it was that bad? "The imposter has made another threat."

"From his cell? What do we care about that?" Adam's attempt at lightheartedness fell flat, and he wished he hadn't tried to lighten the mood.

"What he said, Adam, is that, if he escapes, he'll capture you again and – and –"

"Burn me to death?" Adam asked impatiently. "Slowly, right? He said that in the infirmary room."

"Slowly and in pieces. He said we'd be able to follow a trail of your ashes to your charred bones."

Adam raised his eyebrows. "Wow. That creep really is sick, isn't he? Imagine thinking of that." He shuddered. "Did he threaten anyone else?"

"We didn't stay to hear what else he might have said. He did say I'd be next."

"But nothing about Mother? Or Teela?"

"No, Duncan said he babbled about what he'd do to me for awhile after I left, but fell silent after that."

Adam was relieved that the monster hadn't been threatening his mother or Teela. "Well, it doesn't matter then, does it?"  
"What do you mean?"

Adam shrugged. "Well, he's threatened both of us before. That's not new. And he's never getting out of there, right?"

"Right." His father seemed somewhat dubious, however.

"The cell is secure, isn't it?" Adam asked more urgently.

"Yes, yes, of course it is," his father hastened to say. "I have no worries on that score."

Adam nodded, at least partially reassured. "So, where did you get this magical bracelet?"

"Oh, Duncan took your mother and I to see the Sorceress. She provided it." Adam raised his eyebrows, mildly alarmed by the thought of his parents and the Sorceress in the same room. "That reminds me," his father added, his expression lightening. "I had some questions about that I wanted to ask you about her." He glanced at Adam's largely untouched plate. "You need to eat, Adam. You need to eat more than you need to exercise. I've just thought of another promise you need to make to get me to convince Dorgan to ease up."

"What?"

"You need to eat whatever you're given. Dorgan chooses your meals carefully with healing in mind."

Adam nodded. "Okay, okay." He started eating again, hoping to head off any further lecture. His father seemed satisfied and sat back, looking thoughtful and much less anxious.

"How often do you go with Duncan when he goes to visit the Sorceress?" he asked abruptly.

Adam choked on the mouthful of bread he was swallowing, his eyes wide with worry. What did his father want to know that for? Was he suspicious? "What?" he said, after he managed to swallow.

"I know Duncan takes you with him often when he visits her. I just wondered how often. And how often does he go alone?"

This was a bizarre line of questioning. What was going on? Adam blinked nervously and said, "I go with him pretty much every time he goes, except for lately."

"Has he said anything about her? I mean, anything . . ." His father paused, looking at a loss for words. What was he getting at?

"I don't know what you mean." Adam kept eating.

"Well, Adam," his father started, an odd flush rising in his cheeks. "I just think you might want to consider saying no sometimes when he invites you to come along." What was this? "And when you can't, then just be aware of things. If they look like they want to be alone, find someplace quiet and get out of the way."

Adam stared at his father. "What are you talking about? Why would they want to be alone?"

"Well. . ." His father didn't seem to be able to find words to express what he meant, but a sudden flash of realization hit Adam.

"You don't mean to say – you're not saying that they're – that he's –"

"Your mother and I believe that Duncan is courting the Sorceress," his father managed to say at last. "Now, this isn't something you need to discuss with anyone. Just be aware." Randor sighed. "Duncan needs someone in his life."

Adam nodded dumbly, thunderstruck. Duncan was interested in the Sorceress? Was she interested in him? They certainly spent a lot of time together, even before Adam became He-Man for the first time. It was clear from the way they acted that they'd always spent a fair amount of time together. And Duncan had even said something about studying the ways of the Elders, and Adam had always assumed that meant he had learned from the Sorceress. "That would be great!" Adam said.

"I'm glad to see you agree. So you'll try to stay out of the way?" The brief lightening of his father's mood seemed to dissipate as he spoke, and he looked down to where his hands lay motionless in his lap.

"Um, sure," Adam said. "Father?" Randor raised his eyes to Adam's face. "If there's something bothering you, you can always talk to me about it."

He was very surprised by his father's reaction. Randor stood and sat next to him on the bed, giving him an enormous, though gentle, hug. "Thank you, Adam. I'll keep that in mind."

"Good," Randor said. Adam blinked. This was becoming alarming. His father was getting positively mushy.

FINIS


End file.
